Category: photo

  • off-season


    Cape Cod, originally uploaded by pilgrimgirl.

    As part of my New England travels last week, I had a few spare days in between various meetings. So I decided to book a room by myself at a charming Cape Cod B&B called The Old Sea Pines Inn. While there I spent nearly all day writing, only venturing out in the late afternoons for walks around the environs. What a heavenly experience!

    It was off-season in the Cape, so everything was quite quiet. I got a reduced rate at the Inn and even though I was technically sharing a bathroom, I was never actually sharing with anyone. The breakfasts were large and tasty and there was “tea” each afternoon (which I loved, of course). The front veranda was perfect for reading in the evening, the back porch was an idyllic spot for breakfast, and the parlor had plenty of cozy couches for all-day writing sessions.

    I expect to return again soon enough–though I’d like to bring my family along next time and share some of the Cape magic with them!

    P.S. There’s a charming bookstore just one block down the street from the Inn, which is definitely an asset to any vacation spot! Thumbs up to the clerk who not only helped me find Mary Oliver, but also gave me a pen so I could mark my favorite lines.

    Picture taken in the Old Sea Pines Inn garden–a lovely spot for weddings!

  • thank you from Huang Meihua


    Huang Meihua, the 12 year-old girl who was the recipient of my birthday wish donations, sent this thank you note to me and to all of those who contributed. Our money was wired to her family this week, for her ongoing medical care (and specifically for those prosthetic legs that she needs).

    Friends, you are WONDERFUL.

    A note for you:

    I’m Brecken, the director of HandReach — the one who got to actually collect the money that Jana raised for her birthday wish to Meihua, the 12-year-old in China whose legs had been amputated in the Sichuan earthquake. We wired the money Jana raised to Meihua’s family about a week ago, and our coordinator in China told Meihua how “Auntie Jana” had raised this money in honor of her own birthday. Meihua said she was very touched and inspired by Jana’s big heart, thinking of others instead of just thinking about her own life. She said she hopes to grow up to be a woman like Jana someday and help children who need it. I’ll be meeting Meihua personally in a couple of weeks, and will look forward to sharing the photos of Meihua’s new prosthetic legs with Jana and all of her wonderful friends!

  • lessons


    the first surfing lesson, originally uploaded by pilgrimgirl.

    Looking at this picture from last weekend always garners a smile even though I truly sucked at surfing–mostly because I couldn’t stay on the surfboard (each time a wave would hit, the weight imbalance between my right and left side would flip the board over). Since the lesson I’ve been pondering some strategies to make it easier next time. Meanwhile I’ll just stick to ocean swimming and/or boogie boarding.

    There are two things about this picture that really make me happy:

    • In getting out on the board I tried something scary/hard/seemingly impossible. I tried it just to see what would happen. And there’s a thrill in doing that and not being afraid of failure (or perhaps realizing that failure will happen and that’s okay, too).
    • In this image my body looks healthy (especially those shoulders), a far cry from where I was a year ago. I can’t say enough how thrilled I am to be strong again. When I move in the buoyancy of the water, the physical difference from my limb loss is erased–I can ‘float’ and move comfortably, naturally.

    My life is a continual journey of lessons and learning. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

    PS: For those of you who want to read a bit more about me & mine, I’ve recently written a piece for The Exponent about my marriage and am quoted on Bill Lobdell’s blog. Also, a thoughtful post on Main Street Plaza links back to John & me and here’s a gorgeous poem in John’s honor from BiV.

  • In Tents.


    In Tents., originally uploaded by mind on fire.

    So I think my life is pretty awesome–I’m always trying something interesting and I generally love any new challenge. But you know what makes it even better? Having an awesome photographer-lover who’s recording it all along the way.

    Who else would be able to document the gorgeous (early early) morning light in the tent as I dressed for my outrigger race, and so wholly capture the pensiveness that accompanies every race morning as the adrenaline builds and my whole attention is turned to keeping things together for me and my team?

    Thank you John, for this and for everything else that’s you.

  • contradictions


    when only a tutu will do, originally uploaded by pilgrimgirl.

    Today’s escapist fantasy: me as a ballerina. Though I studied ballet briefly as a young girl, I never showed any promise as a dancer.

    But today I’m living my contradictions.

    I’m typically quite practical and utilitarian. I rarely dress ‘girly’ and I’m not ‘fancy.’ But I do have this romantic pretty’streak inside that drives me to hang gauzy curtains on my canopy bed, wear silver bangle bracelets, and occasionally dress up in something that I wouldn’t dare wear out of the house.

  • so they change themselves.


    garden love, originally uploaded by pilgrimgirl.

    Just one more Audre Lorde poem that I’ve found incredibly thought-provoking…an excerpt from “Stations” (the very last part is my very favorite bit):

    Some women wait for visions
    that do not return
    where they were not welcome
    naked
    for invitations to places
    they always wanted
    to visit
    to be repeated.

    Some women wait for themselves
    around the next corner
    and call the empty spot peace
    but the opposite of living
    is only not living
    and the stars do not care.

    Some women wait for something
    to change and nothing
    does change
    so they change
    themselves.

    Pic above is some rosepetal love from my garden, by way of CatGirl’s artistry.

  • I take your hand….


    wet gerber daisy, originally uploaded by pilgrimgirl.

    One of my joys is to have books of poetry stashed on nearby shelves, just perfect for grabbing and reading a few poems when the time is at hand. Yesterday’s book was The Collected Poems of Audre Lorde, a book that I first happened upon at the Bluestocking Bookstore in NYC, but didn’t buy until later because I feared it’s weight would be too much in my slim carry-on bag.

    One of yesterday’s discoveries was a poem about gardening and hope, titled “Walking Our Boundaries.” I suspect that only I could be so charmed by a poem that speaks of compost (yes, it is all-too poetic, in my mind). An excerpt:

    I take your hand beside the compost heap
    glad to be alive and still
    with you
    we talk of ordinary articles
    with relief
    while we peer upward
    each half-afraid
    there will be no tight buds started
    on our ancient apple tree
    so badly damaged by last winter’s storm
    knowing
    it does not pay to cherish symbols
    when the substance
    lies so close at hand
    waiting to be held
    your hand
    falls off the apple bark
    like casual fire
    along my back
    my shoulders are dead leaves
    waiting to be burned
    to life.

    The sun is watery warm
    our voices
    seem too loud for this small yard[…]
    our footsteps hold this place
    together
    as our place
    our joint decisions make the possible
    whole
    I do not know when
    we shall laugh again
    but next week
    we will spade up another plot
    for this spring’s seeding.

  • rising rose


    rising rose, originally uploaded by pilgrimgirl.

    “There is one spectacle grander than the sea, that is the sky;
    there is one spectacle grander than the sky, that is the interior of the soul”
    ~Victor Hugo

    I can just never get enough of that azure blue sky (and the blooming roses frame it just perfectly, in my opinion).

  • a small cup of light


    lacy reflections, originally uploaded by pilgrimgirl.

    “But tomorrow, dawn will come the way I picture her,
    barefoot and disheveled, standing outside my window
    in one of the fragile cotton dresses of the poor.
    She will look in at me with her thin arms extended,
    offering a handful of birdsong and a small cup of light.”
    ~William Collins

    The image above was the morning reflection on the wall from the light coming through my window at the Sacramento hostel. All of the windows had these gauzy, lacy curtains. If the old house was haunted it certainly seemed so with the ghosts of wind that caused the curtains to billow in the evening breeze.

  • so many roses


    GrandmaB’s funeral, originally uploaded by pilgrimgirl.

    Grandma would have just loved this. All the pretty roses.

    Do not watch the petals fall from the rose with sadness,
    know that, like life, things sometimes must fade,
    before they can bloom again.
    ~Unknown

  • sisters


    DAVSDOTR, originally uploaded by pilgrimgirl.

    Grandma with her sisters (she’s on the far left). She looks so much like my older sister in the pic that it’s almost uncanny to me.

    And, oh, aren’t those hairdos something else?

    PS: I belive that the caption on this photo misspells some of the names. Did I do this caption over a decade ago when I was compiling my family history? I can’t even remember now…

  • at last, and too soon…


    so pretty, it hurts a little bit, originally uploaded by pilgrimgirl.

    “Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?” –Mary Oliver*

    Three of my grandparents died when I was fairly young. So for many years my GrandmaB (my kids called her “Candy Grandma,” can you guess why???) was my only grandparent.

    She passed away this morning after suffering from dementia for several years. Of late she didn’t even know her own name, much less the identities of those who came to visit.

    I have many memories of her, perhaps the most distinct being her pain as she watched her oldest son–my father–die of cancer. I can only imagine how deep her suffering was, and remember her saying that she’d never expected to outlive my father.

    So I’ll travel to Utah to join the family in celebrating the life of this beloved woman. It will be a thrill to see the extended family, as I suspect that it might be a very long time before we all have reason to gather again.

    *Thank you, Deborah, for this bit of poetry.