Shutter Sisters

A Tale of Love

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The Furrytale Farm is tucked away off of a bone-rattling dirt road, on a beautiful patch of land that’s far from the trendy tourist boutiques and restaurants of the island. I pull into the drive and a pack of twenty or so dogs greets me with more barking than is probably necessary, but it’s nice to get an enthusiastic welcome. Later, I will throw sticks for these dogs and try to figure out why anyone would want to abandon, neglect, or abuse them. I’ll wonder why they ended up at the farm, instead of cuddling on the couch or chasing tennis balls, like they were so meant to do.

The Furrytale Farm is an animal rescue and rehabilitation organization on Bainbridge Island, just a short ferry ride from my home in Seattle. It’s intent is to provide sanctuary to the animals who need it most, while also providing education to the public and fostering awareness of animal abuse and neglect. I haven’t been volunteering there for long, but long enough to know that this is one of the most special and incredibly vital parts of my greater community. My work there is by no means a vacation for my body. I muck out horse stalls, pull weeds, feed pigs, and usually go home covered in dust and slop and other less savory concoctions. But strange as it may seem, it’s a vacation for my brain. The hours spent there are a complete break from human reality. Everything is forgotten while I’m at the farm – the bills tacked to the fridge, projects left unfinished at the office, dentist appointments, and the fact that we’re out of toilet paper again. It all just melts away, because I am there for one thing alone: to love.

Jake the Dalmatian leans into my leg and moans with delight when I rub his ears. Frank and George, the tiny dachshunds with a past too terrible to explain (though you can get a taste of what they went through on the site ) waddle over to the gate and beg me to sit so they can crawl into my lap for however long I’ll allow it. I’d sit for days, if I could. Tank, the Rottweiler with the terribly abusive past, follows at my heels and is the most heartbreakingly loyal dog I’ve ever met. Jeremy, the new guy, loves my camera and gives the lens a good lick. And there are so many more, each just as incredible as the last. There are potbellied pigs, with their leathery backs to pat. There are horses to nuzzle, and the rich scent of hay. And of course the dogs, which fill my day with so much joy that I feel like I need to split into a thousand hearts to give back the amount of love that they give me. 

I catch the afternoon ferry home, smelling like hay and dirt and farm, a little self-conscious of the odors I seem to be emitting. And it’s back to the city, with the market still buzzing and cruise ships loading, and me in my car, with the radio, and the smell, and the reminder that this world is so much bigger than myself.

A special thanks to Jessica Eskelson for kicking off our staycation stories feature Your Local Picks. If we’re to stick close to home all summer, why not do something meaningful with our time. Take a peek at the whole gang over at Furrytale Farm in Jessica’s Flickr set. If this cast of characters doesn’t break your heart and then mend it again, nothing will.

memories of childhood

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I spent my childhood living in a house on the southeastern corner of the Caribbean island of Trinidad, about 1 block from Mayaro beach. The village we lived in was very small, and I remember at a very young age walking about the 1/4 mile distance to and from school every moning, usually taking the beach, since it was the most direct route.

I remember that sometimes, on pretty days, the American schoolmaster of that very small school would sometimes cancel class, and take the entire student body — all 50 of us — for long walks on the beach.

I remember sometimes being on the beach at the same time the fishermen were pulling in their seines filled with silver, flopping fish — and sometimes a shark or a stingray or two. I remember sometimes joining the men and helping them pull the nets.

I remember sometimes digging for chip-chip, and bringing them home so that we could cook them and eat them with cocktail sauce that my dad would make.

I remember racing live sand dollars on the beach with my friends.

Today, please share a photo that reminds you of your childhood.  We’d love to read about it.

 

Cross-posted at Chookooloonks.

The Beginning of Being

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“What am I doing?” I whispered to myself.

I don’t even know what all the buttons do on my camera and yet there I stood in the corner of the room while she gave life to a person. I felt totally unqualified to capture such an event, but I couldn’t stop clicking and soaking in all the magic before me.

We watched her every move. She was deep in her work, working her way through every contraction, every doubt. I kept shooting, he rubbed her back, we waited and hoped we were doing it right. Somewhere in the midst of struggle, we discover the knowing. She knows how to bring life. He knows how to believe in her. The baby knows how to be born. I know how to hold that moment. Forever.

We all take our place, it is the beginning of being.

Where is your place to be today?  What moment are you holding in your lens?  What beginning do you want to honor?  The comments are all yours today, and special thanks to birth photographer Patience Salgado for being our guest.

Taking it to the Streets

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I tend to be a solitary photographer, leaving my home with camera in hand as a kind of meditation, seeing what speaks to me as I observe my city. But on July 18th, I will join a gang of strangers to participate in Scott Kelby’s 2nd Annual Worldwide Photo Walk.

 

Photographers across the globe are already eagerly signing up, so leap in and join the party. Come July 19th or so, we can meet back here and share our images from the day, comparing cities and views and perspectives on snapping photos next to strangers, some of whom may cross over into the category of new photo friends.

 

What do you say? Are you game? Tell us in comments in which city you’ve signed up to participate, and let’s see how wide we can spread the reach of Shutter Sisters to create a lovely palette of images. Last year participants created amazing photos. Let’s show what Shutter Sisters can do.

 

If your city’s walk is already full or there isn’t one scheduled close by, consider applying to be a leader. Be sure to come prepared with batteries fully charged and plenty of memory cards or film (yes, film!) Be bold, be different, have fun!

 

Images and words courtesy of Honorary Sister / Guest Bloggger Debbie Zeitman.

When A Camera is More Than Just a Camera

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We pulled over to the side of the rugged mountain road to wait for the second vehicle to catch up. From out of nowhere, people started to emerge. First there was the bashful young girl carrying one of her goats and shooing the rest out of the way of our jeep. Next it was two or three young men, come to check why the vehicle had stopped. Their curiousity mounted when they saw the two white faces among the locals. I smiled and waved a friendly hello. They grinned and gestured excitedly for their friends to join them as they stared in wonder at my strange pale face.

I leaned out of the vehicle and showed them my camera. Without shared language, I gestured to them,
asking their blessing to take their picture. They smiled tentatively and I clicked my first shot of the
young man with the broadest grin. I turned the camera around to show his likeness in the small screen.
His eyes opened wide in amazement. When he burst out laughing, more young men gathered at the
sound of the commotion. The first young man pointed at his friend and then at the camera. I clicked
again and showed the second man. Soon, they were all clamouring for pictures of themselves or their
friends. The commotion grew louder as each one became more insistent that I snap their picture for all
their friends to see. One of the men, covering the bottom of his face with his gabi (large cloth worn
draped around their shoulders and/or head), gave me a sly flirtatious look, and I smiled as I envisioned
the stories they would tell in their village tonight of the foreign women who wanted their picture to take
home.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted another young man hovering just outside the circle. I turned to
include him in the group, but at the sight of him, my breath caught in my throat. Slung casually over his
shoulder was a semi-automatic weapon. On his face was a stern, disapproving look.

My mind raced back to the stories I’d heard just before coming to Ethiopia, about a group of French
visitors who’d been kidnapped in this very region. So close to the border with Somalia, this part of the
country had a reputation for volatility and rebel attacks.

One of my companions in the car spotted him too. “We should go,” he said nervously. Our driver began
to rev the motor. Perhaps I had gone too far, taking my pictures and encouraging such a large crowd of
young rowdy men to gather. Perhaps I was putting us all at risk. I imagined all of the dark possibilities
that could come of this innocent action. I took a step back toward the car. The safest thing would be to
climb back in, close the windows, and drive. But I wasn’t sure if I wanted to do the safest thing.

Leaning past the other young men, I smiled tentatively toward the man with the gun. His expression
and stance didn’t change. I lifted my camera to my eye and waited to see if he would react. He didn’t. I
clicked. He stared. Then, slowly, showing I had no ill intent, I turned the back of the camera toward
him. His eyes, when he spotted his image, grew a little wider. Then, though there was no perceptible
change to his furrowed brow, I saw the corners of his lips curl upward ever so slightly. I grinned back at
him.

Many times in my travels in countries where I don’t speak their language, I’ve seen the camera serve as
an instrument of friendship. Through the wonders of digital technology, I’ve seen many outbursts of
delight when they’ve spotted their own image or that of their friends on the screen. In my work back
home, I’d also seen it serve as an instrument of persuasion and bridge-building, when I used my photos
to communicate the stories of the people I’d met in Africa and beyond. Now I began to wonder – could
the camera also serve as an instrument of peace?

Picture and words courtesy of Honorary Sister and world explorer, Heather Plett.

1,000 Words

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Lately, I’ve been searching for words out in the world – words that speak to me and make me pause for just a moment of consideration. Once I started searching, they were everywhere – little treasures right there in the wide open spaces of my everyday life: On buildings. On city streets. Even at gas stations. I love how the universe finds us, how it speaks to us in unexpected moments, and how the very messages me most need to see are so often right in front of us. We just need to look.

Sisters, let’s see how many words we can collect together. I promise that with each word you find, your heart will lift with a split second of wonder.

Picture and words courtesy of Honorary Sister and artist extraordinaire Kelly Rae Roberts. Visit her beautiful blog, pour over her rich portfolio and be prepared to get swept away!

How I know I’m home (mid-2009 edition)

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1. On returning to the house, my first cup of tea at the kitchen table (which always has a full bowl of fruit on it, above).

2. Finally lying down in my bed at night.

3. The smell of nag champa incense.

4. Resting my head on Marcus’ chest.

5. Sitting on our new swing at dusk! (preferable in concert with #4, above)

6. The smell of baking. Anything baking.

7. The sound of my daughter Alex singing quietly to herself in her bedroom.

8. Turning on the twinkle lights in our kitchen.

And you? These days, how do you know when you’re home?  Bonus points if you share images of those cozy corners of your own home.

(And for those of you in the US,  have a great holiday weekend.  If you’re traveling, come home safe!)

up close and personal

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I’ve never been a huge fan of roses – in my mind, there are many more beautiful, interesting blossoms. Still, when my husband Marcus suggested we plant a couple of rose bushes in the back of our garden a couple of years ago, I didn’t protest: I assumed that his need for roses was somehow because he’s English. Or something. Anyway, they’re blossoming now, and I took the image above this weekend. When I downloaded this shot from my camera, I was surprised at how little post-camera processing was necessary — I increased the contrast a tiny bit, and added some vignetting around the sides, but otherwise, the image remains generally untouched.  I’m shocked at how much more appealing roses are when you look at them up close.

Like most things, I suppose.

Today, show me some everyday things that stun you with their beauty up close.

(Crossposted at Chookooloonks)

 

hellos

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Remember the scene at the very beginning of the movie Love Actually, when Hugh Grant’s voiceover shares that one of his favourite things to do is watch people in the arrivals hall of Heathrow Airport, in London? When I first saw that scene, I felt like the writers of the movie had somehow snuck into my head: that is totally my favourite thing in the world to do. I even remember certain specific airport greetings: two Muslim men who rushed through a ceremonial bow to each other before leaping into each other’s arms for an emotional hug; a woman who’d clearly been away from her children for some time, who greeted them by sitting on the floor and clutching them both, sobbing happily. One of the downsides of traveling after September 11th is that while waiting for your own flight, you can’t watch people greet their friends as they walk off the airplane gangplank into the gate area.

I took the photo above one afternoon when my daughter Alex and I had gone outside to shoot flowers. Suddenly, she saw her friend down the street, at about the same time her friend saw her. They went running toward each other like one of those old movies — and then they hugged, laughing and giggling. I snapped away.

I really love hellos.

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On this wonderful spring day, wherever you are, please share your images of gleeful greetings in the comments below. 

And may someone give you a heartfelt hello today.

 

(Crossposted at Chookooloonks)