Category Archives: Photo stories

{mostly snapshots}

Photo stories

The Spirit of Boise

Did you have a lovely weekend, my friends? Lucky us who managed three glorious days off …

The weather was pure perfection, here. Granted, I sneezed and blew my way through the days, thanks to polluted air floating about—but even that wasn’t all bad. After all, it produced spectacular sunrises—the perfect backdrop to the Spirit of Boise Balloon Classic.

It’s a tradition for my family; this year, we even managed to talk a couple of friends to coming with—friends, I might add, who are not morning people. Such brave pilgrims!

We can only hope it was worth it …

Photo stories

Color story | August | Cotton

Jules, of Pancakes and French Fries, hosts a monthly color story series. Each month, you see, she recaps the month before with a series of photos, each woven together with a theme of color. She’s inviting us to join the fun! You can find the details here. As you see, ‘Cotton’ wrapped August; ‘Russet’ shall color September.

Dear August, You sucked.

Oh wait, that’s not at all how it’s done, now is it?! Please hold. {rewind}

Dear August, I feel as though you sucked.

Oh sure, you gave me flowers …

You made certain my days would be filled with friends and family; you even went so far as to throw in a cute animal or two …

But behind it all you were wily, slovenly, and otherwise up to no good …

Just when it would appear we might be friends, you’d turn on me, like a Praying Mantis on her honeymoon. Remember that particularly hard day, when I slipped off the deck? Sure, I wasn’t that hurt; and laying in the grass bemoaning every injustice of the last three years may have been going a bit far. But it’s not like you were without fault. You, my friend, hit below the belt. 

Thankfully, the time has come to bid you adieu…

I’m moving on, forging ahead, shaping up and shipping out. And while I hope to never see the likes of you again, you tend to cast a broad shadow.

I guess that leaves me no choice, but to look up …

And trust that He will make my path straight—no matter how catawampus you may have made it appear.

Sincerely,

Amy

Photo stories

Oh, that summer magic

Every once in awhile a weekend comes along that shines a bit above the rest. They’re weekends where the sun smiles down sweetly and a cool breeze waves hello; where the line between friend and family blurs; where you can laugh, chatter, and meander about for hours on end; where fresh cut flowers beckon and fresh produce adds a splash of color; where tacos are made for the street and ice cream is fresh churned; where butterflies flutter and you swear the animals are telling you a thing or two; where adults and children play, alike; and you’re reminded of all that is magical about summer …

Photo stories

Color story | July | Silver

Jules, of Pancakes and French Fries, hosts a monthly color story series. Each month, you see, she recaps the month before with a series of photos, each woven together with a theme of color. She’s inviting us to join the fun! You can find the details here. As you see, ‘Silver’  reflected July; ‘Cotton’  shall wrap August.

Upon it’s beginning, July seemed destined for a lasting and colorful story. After all, it began with a long weekend of fun and celebration…

Three whole weekends followed, each to fill with the likes of chalk art and old cars…

We even took advantage of the fact that July was National hot dog month {naysayers be damned; and seriously, who eats a hot dog every day anyway?} …

Of course, a dog is always better when you’re eating to help friends bring home their baby boy. Also better—getting gifts quite out of the blue. My mum gave me earrings and a bracelet—simply because she knows how I do so love a bit of sparkle…

Lift the flower on the bracelet and you’ll find a wee watch. It’s been so long since winding an honest-to-goodness watch, the thought actually flittered across my mind: how do you know if it’s a.m. or p.m.?

Yes, it was one of those months.

Perhaps simply reading of the whole National Debt debacle turned my mind to mush …

Perhaps it stems from the fact that I’ve read little more than Cliver Cusslerall month, people. And there’s no immediate end in sight. Still, thanks to a lovely brunch and book-exchange, I have a couple good options, when I can handle something with a little more substance … 

You see, if there’s one thing July taught me: I don’t do well in that in-between stage. If you would have told me that I would be in the exact same spot as last year, I would have scoffed. I may have even called you a ninny; because this year was going to be different. This year I would finally make it—I would move, nay, spring forward!

Alas, life moves at its own pace…

But slow as it may seem, it still moves—a little fact that hit me, in the sweltering month of July. So, while I continued trudging along, and continued clutching my fluffy-adventure novels, I began working on what I could. This included making a concerted effort to get off my ever expanding derrière and move.

Thankfully, most of our walk takes place in a neighborhood, where there’s no traveling over 25 miles per hour and no U-turns …

Slow and steady … that pretty much sums up the past three years—definitely the month of July. But really, when you think about it, that’s not a bad way to go about it. After all, it’s not so much when we arrive … so long as we keep moving forward …

Photo stories

Ramble on

The weekend began with a breakfast of eggs, scrambled with fresh veggies and mashed potatoes, and a side of chocolate covered strawberries. I don’t think I need tell you, it was a good weekend. It was the weekend my aunt and uncle came to visit; and it was the weekend of the annual Capital City Cruise. The cruise, you see, is a chance for all the cars of Northwest Motorfest to shine. Blocking off several streets downtown, the cars cruise as days of old. For the life of me, I can’t understand how I’m the only one of my girlfriends who is positively giddy over such an event. After all, there’s nothing like hearing the low rumble of a muscle car or the a-oo-ga of a Model T horn. And what could be better than watching someone hit a three-wheel motion—or going old school, and revving the engine before releasing the brake and letting her fly. Needless to say, I came home smelling of exhaust and ready to own a classic, all my own …

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