In the spirit of creating, I'm spinning up a new series of mini projects where I try and create something small, free, and fun for people to use. Let's kick if off with a series of phone wallpapers.
There's a part of me, buried deep down, that still loves the zoo. My childish curiosity is never sated. I want to learn. I want to see. I want to experience.
I have not been to many zoos. My childhood was primarily filled with museums and animals of the past. As an adult, my knowledge begins to fracture the sense of awe. These animals are captive. Sometimes for better reasons. Sometimes not.
I tried to capture both sides of the glass.
My aunt and uncle own an art studio down in Aloha, OR. They lived in Hawaii for 25 years, which makes their current town a well suited place for them to create beautiful works of art. I try to visit them a few times a year, and when I do, I always document the new work they're creating.
There is a slow itch that starts to build under my skin. The need to be outside. It's not until I drag myself into the woods that I finally feel content and calm. Westport was beautiful, cold, and quiet. There's a different kind of summer in the northwest. The air is damp and crisp. The wind bites at your ankles. Never too hot. Never too cold. Always just right.
This has been an unusually cold summer in Seattle. Or perhaps I have only been around for unusually warm summers. July was filled with highs in the low 70s, drizzling rain over the 4th of July, and all attempts to cling to every last ray of sunshine that graced us over these precious couple of months.
State fairs are one of my favorite places for people watching. It's a weird, wonderful cross section of people. Here are some photographic observations, plus one exploding car.
I’ve never been camping. I was in Girl Scouts forever ago, but we slept in sleeping bags in a well constructed cabin. There were bathrooms. We deep fried doughnuts over a little Coleman propane stove. It was a weekend of me and my ten year old peers complaining about bugs.
This last weekend still included complaining about bugs, but it was a small price to pay for finally getting off the grid. I have previously dismissed the fact that I was so plugged into technology. My mind was tired from going, going, going. I didn't realized this until I completely, and abruptly, stopped.
It wasn't like I was doing anything all that important. I sat in a camp chair on a river for hours and stared out at the water. I made fires. I cooked simple, honest food. I read a book about trout fishing and explored the forest. Everything seemed clearer and slower.
I simply allowed myself to be.