Tuesday, August 28, 2012

sea breeze.

It was a sea breeze that kept me from home last week. For five days I breathed in the salty air, listened to the seagulls call mournfully in the cloudy sky, and watched the white foam gurgle on its sandy bed. 

The beach is relaxation at its finest, as we now know well. Every year since I can remember we have traveled to Cannon Beach, the best little sandy spot in America, I am almost certain. There is the same old house with its chipping drawers and sandy floors, the same sailboat in the window, the same ugly yet familiar yellow kitchen counters which haven't changed since the 70's, the same stretch of beach outside the window. It isn't ours'; friends of the family generously lend "Glory Be" cabin to us yearly. And yet it is so very much the same that it seems almost like our own. 

Days pass slowly, yet quickly. We read and write and walk and run and swim and talk and laugh. One night, while we were sitting near the sparks of a beach fire, watching the orange sun melt into her sea bed, a tiny light rose from the far end of the shore. As we gazed, it grew brighter, and floated gently across the sky-- a Japanese lantern, in memory of some departed soul. I immediately started humming, "..And at last I see the light...," of course. 

And then we ran to catch it. Which we did. It was just one of those mundane yet marvelous things that happen at the sea.  


On another note, yesterday evening I had the pleasure of photographing my beautiful new friend, Amara, for her senior year. Here's a little sneak peek of the day..

And one more thing: do you remember my friend, Jessica, who's senior photos are also featured on this blog (and who guest posted for me not too long ago)? Well, I am happy to announce that she has at long last made a blog! It is simply lovely, just like herself. I am sure she would love it if you would stop by for a visit


p.s. (and thank you all for your sweet sweet sweet birthday wishes. iloveyou!)

Thursday, August 16, 2012

emotion // challenge finalists

A few weeks late, but here are the finalists for July's photo challenge, "Emotion." As usual, it was a trial picking out only seven finalists, so I threw in some favorites too (which were also hard to narrow down). Thank you all for sharing your budding talent with me for this challenge, and congratulations, finalists! Please vote for your favorite on the poll in the sidebar.

 by Carli
I love this unique image--it is so full of raw emotion, but from a different vantage point. 
by Raquel
This is just dang cute--you can sense the love (and a little bit of sweet awkwardness?) in the shot. 
I love the surprise captured in these pretty eyes. Vibrant emotion! Eyes are indeed "the windows to the soul."
by Sierra
This is just lovely. Emotion through song is rarely captured effectively, and I think Sierra did the job with this pretty bridesmaid and her tribute to the wedding. Beautiful! 
by Kelly
This photo just makes me smile--the joy in holding that kitty is so evident!
by Amanda
Laughter is one of the best emotions. I love this capture of it. 
by Nela
Sibling love + joy are captured so well with this shot! I can almost hear his giggle. 

[the poll is now up!]

Wednesday, August 15, 2012

dear seventeen,

(yes, this is the closest I could get to a seven and one...)

Dear Seventeen,

 Today was just like any other day--but in the early hours of the morning I met you, the phantom; the illusional reality of a new age. Sixteen slipped out the back door like a sweet memory; unneeded yet treasured. I miss her, a little, so make up for what's lost and be good to me. 

Seventeen, you and I are now friends.  Inseparable now for twelve future months. Where I go, you'll go, and your name will go along with mine. 

I like the way you sound. You're rather pretty, rather whimsical, rather mysterious. And because too many compliments can spoil an age, rather slippery. Nevertheless, we're stuck together for a good while, and I intend to survive you, enjoy you, and give you a good reputation.

I like you, Seventeen. Let's hope you'll like me. 


Saturday, August 11, 2012

back to the lazy rush

Just some shots from home. Because home always feels good. There's something about familiar territory--snuggling down in your own cotton sheets on your own bed; the songs of your own crickets outside your own window; the sun melting over familiar mountains. I can never sleep as well as when I am at home, but that doesn't stop me from loving travel. 

We returned from Idaho this last Monday. It was a refreshing time, despite our van overheating and breaking down in 109 degree weather on a dusty, dry stretch. But the Lord took care of us, and the pines and the lake and the campfires and the bike trails made up for it all. I biked 70 miles in 5 days, and I discovered how much I truly love it. 

For now, and from this last week, there have been and will be:

olympics || sun-flecked lake waters || 20 mile bike rides || early morning runs || art galleries || watercoloring pinterest finds || golden hours || princess braids || melty ice cream || fresh blackberries || best friends

...and can I tell you a not-so-secret-secret? My 17th birthday is in four days. I wish I had some wise thoughts on the aging process, but I don't. I only feel a little bit scared, a little bit remorseful, and a lot excited for a new year. 

And no matter what it holds, I can't promise I'll be ready, but I know God will. 

Music: "You Make Me Smile" by Uncle Kracker 

Friday, August 3, 2012

stepping back and breathing

I love blogging. That's a given.

But sometimes I have to remind myself of the importance of stepping back, breathing, and just living.

Shutting down the laptop and picking up the book to read to the almost three-year old. Putting down the camera and experiencing the moment. Taking a step back to live life, not write about it, not document it, but just live -- really, wholly, truly live.

And the best part is, you'll find yourself writing better, shooting better, creating better that way. Because it's hard to live life and not be inspired by it.

Stepping back today, lovelies.

Much love,

My name is Hannah.
In a nutshell, I am...
a photographer
sometimes a writer, mostly a blogger
someone who laughs a lot
crazy about my family
loud Singer
an old soul
a woman struck with fernweh, or wanderlust
daughter, sister, friend
a lover of the simple and organic
a girl who quotes movies, books, and trivia
a fan of all things indie, artsy, and often eclectic
a chocolate icecream kind of girl
it's nice to meet you!
blog - Facebook page - twitter

Thursday, August 2, 2012

american summer

a guest post by jessica

It was an American summer with wheat fields and pine trees and golden peach sunsets. Sunshine in plum orchards and the smell of fresh rain on an old dirt road. A small Northwestern town: red Ford pickups on dirt lanes, the smell of fresh earth in the air, crisp white farmhouses, and dear grandpas on tractors in the farmer’s uniform of denim overalls and button down shirts. 

We vowed to make the most of this summer and so make the most of it we tried. Stargazing on hilltops, bodies clambering to find a seat, all lying together side by side. Voices disruptive at first, then slowly ceasing until the only sounds heard were the songs of crickets and the footfall of cows. 

Countless long nights around campfires, moon light in the sky, friends seated together on chairs called tree stumps. There was laughter and white teeth shining in the moonlight, marshmallows on sticks, and the crackling of bright orange flames. Scattered coffee cups on the ground, practical jokes played, and too many, but not enough, stories passed around. 

Fourth of July night with watermelon slices and lemonade pitchers drunk dry; fireworks in the dark and shouts of laughter shared with loved ones. This is the Land of the Free and we belong to freedom. We are the ones they call free. 

Fiddle music in the air; a Gypsy song is played. There is dancing, hands clasped tight and heads tossed back, breathlessness as the pace picks up faster and faster. Hearts racing, adrenaline rush remembering the steps to take: twirl here, step there, lean back, repeat. 

And then, the moments that we could not make, the ones that were simply given to us: white daisies for rustic crowns and golden hay fields, apples off trees and strawberries for homemade jam. Sunrise and sunset, sunshine and moon light. Crickets chirping and the coyote’s haunting whisper on the breeze. Mountain peaks and fir trees, fir trees and mountain peaks. Trickling of a spring and the steady beat of a creek. The simple act of smiling and laughter as easily as we breathe.

We made that summer last as long as we could but, as always, all good things must come to an end. So we wrapped up our memories, tucked them away into boxes and shoved them deep inside our heads. Cold winds would soon come and summer would be forgotten, until the remembrance of wooden boxes would trigger fiddle music and daisy crowns and golden sunsets and the way the stars freckled the night sky.

And so when the winter asks what we did all summer, we will say, ‘everything’ and that will be enough. 

my name is jessica. i am eighteen years old and i call northwest oregon my home for the time being, in a little town with fir trees, quiet old farms, countless dandelion fields, and more than enough rain. i spend my time creating watercolor paintings, making music on many different instruments, and writing as many words as i possibly can.
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