Excuse the title, I just fell out of the third grade.
I am who I am and that’s all that I am.
To say photography means a lot to me would be an understatement. It means more than just a lot.
What does a lot even mean?
I like a lot of cheese on my spaghetti. -True. And I suppose that would be one way of describing a lot..the third grade definition..
I’ve never ever ever been great with expressing my feelings about things in conversation. I can’t stress the never and the ever enough.
Even when getting gifts from people. If I really do like the gift, God help me if I can successfully get across my point of appreciation and gratefulness. So when I feel strongly about something, it all just flows out at once and lands on the floor with a big splat. Or I don’t say much at all because I end up trying too hard and it comes out wrong.
I wasn’t blessed with the gift of gab either.
One could say I can be socially awkward at times. But lets not focus on that. “I am who I am and that’s all that I am.”
I’d rather express my emotions through writing. I can write to kingdom come and back without worry. Obviously there’s the delete button, but more so, I take the time to think about what I’m writing.
So back to my definition of a lot.
A lot of one thing can be too much. But with photography, that doesn’t really apply.
I have piles upon piles of CD’s and DVD’s full of pictures since my teenage years on.
Am I going to throw them out because I have too many?
Do I really have to answer that question?
If I become that mentally deranged, you have my permission to lock me up with the mouth breathers and window lickers.
It was when I was 13-14 that I first picked up a camera, and realized that we can’t get these moments in time back. All we have is our memory to rely on. And that wasn’t good enough for me. So I started taking pictures of everything.
A lot of everything.
I was probably quite annoying.
I’m pretty sure I captured every step of my mom’s garden growing at one point. Just the flowers though. I tried to forget about the part of the garden with the green beans in it. Which was about 90% of a 40 acre plot she had in the backyard.
We had a big backyard.
We spent many summers building character in the green bean garden. Enough was planted to give to our neighbors and grandparents, who turned around and supplied their neighbors and grandparents. Why we had to pick their share, I’ll never understand. I have enough of those memories that I don’t need a picture.
I don’t want a picture.
Can you tell I’m bitter?
Oh well.. I will do the same thing to my kids. I am my mother’s daughter, and I like green beans.
What were we talking about now?
I’ve always seen the beauty in the littlest things. At one point I feared something was wrong with me for being observant of things other people passed up. It’s the details I’m always looking at. The veins in leaves, a lone tree in the middle of a field, the smell of fresh cut hay and the way it stains your shoes, a sunrise over a fog covered field of sunflowers, or the way the evening sunlight shines through my windows giving everything a cozy glow that makes you want to sit around a fireplace with your husbands Packer’s snuggie eating cinnamon rolls while gaining 5 pounds on the spot. Wait..
I can’t help but appreciate all the little things.
I wanted to capture all those little things and share them with people in hopes of sparking that interest in someone else. We all need to stop and smell the roses sometimes(or the recently plowed dirt). That’s why I turned to photography. That’s why I love photography a lot. That’s why I have a lot of pictures.. a lot of memories. Its my avenue to share the things I love and help others(and me) continue to be thankful for the life we have. You could say it’s my way of contributing, and giving back in a sense. It’s comforting, when you’ve had a bad day, or week… or year, to be able to look back on some good times and know that they always come back around.
Some people don’t appreciate it as much.. but they will. Someday. When they need it.