There’s this place filled with creative thoughtful people who share many of the same philosophies and respect each other when their opinions differ. The thing that bonds these folks together is a common love for the art of photography. Strange thing, though, this neighborhood? It’s virtual. It’s Flickr and blogging and Facebook (and others I’m sure). It’s women who check in on each other when one hasn’t been around for a while. It’s a mutual admiration society in the best way, and it’s a visual feast. It’s friendships 2.0 – weird, maybe, to your grandmother. People who’ve never met – sharing intimate details of their lives with each other and trusting one another with secrets. It’s following your gut instinct and it’s impossible to explain to our kids (whom we would never ever allow to do the same). It’s meeting a bunch of strangers for lunch and conversation and it’s some of the most intimate friendships I have ever had. I can’t fully explain it except to say that we don’t get to choose our actual neighbors. And while I’m beyond lucky in that department, there’s something to be said for creating boundary-less networks and filling them with souls who we just plain connect with.

Last month hundreds of these women (I don’t mean to be sexist, but I can’t actually think of any men in my network) took part in an annual ritual of thanksgiving. We counted our blessings in images every day for thirty days. We went about our days considering what we had to be thankful for (and photographing some of them). And while I’d like to tell you that I spend my entire life like this, it wouldn’t be true. But for one month all the nit-picky crap was overshadowed by the small blessings of every day. And of those, there are many.

At the onset, I thought of it as a useful exercise in creative photography. Before long, though, my thinking had begun to change. New habits perhaps? A movement toward a glass-half-full mentality? I’m hoping.

Insert reality check: the things which annoy me daily did not go away. Scrubbing toilets did not become a joy and long dark cold afternoons did not suddenly become light and warm. But truth be told, things I may have previously ignored became drops filling my glass beyond that halfway line. So today, though I might not write about it, or even photograph it, I will walk through my day looking for the things I’m grateful for.

And I’ll start here. With you, my friends.

November.

It’s a month that finds our nation collectively giving thanks. As individuals many of us take this time to count our blessings. Last November, one month after my husband had lost his job and facing very grim prospects, I distinctly remember the guilt in not being able to feel thankful for what we still had. Our health, family and friends. Each other. Seeing those things through the darkness that had set in over our house took more effort than I had most days. It was a rough year.

This November things are looking up.

We have work and we’re warm. The lights are back on around here (literally and emotionally) and it feels easier to take stock of the good. But just between you and me, this gratitude stuff sometimes feels a little forced. Truth is, we’re lucky. So very lucky. Our list is long and plentiful and reading through it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy.

But I’m not a big fan of winter in these parts. Four o’clock comes ’round and it’s dark out and there are cranky children and mountains of homework to contend with. Chores feel impossible and the days never end. I hate that I feel this way and wish I took it all in stride but oh, how I miss the extra hours of daylight already. I am eternally grateful for a thousand things, but if I’m being honest, I’d tell you that I’m also counting the days until March.

So, in case you couldn’t tell from my prolonged absence, October got away from me. Let me sum it up for you:

There were pumpkins and colorful leaves.

Some newborn babies

and comfort food.

An epic Flickr meetup.

And a freak snowstorm.

There. All caught up.

In my parenting so far I’ve spent a lot of time on things I consider fundamental (manners, work-ethic and other non-essential lessons). Recent events have made it clear to me that I’ve skipped over some of the basics.

I’ve made this video to help my boys get up to speed. I’m posting it here with the hope that it can help others who are faced with the same plight.

I’ve heard it said by people who grew up in New York City that they didn’t appreciate what they had around them, but I never felt that way. It’s true that as a child I longed for open space and more green, but I think I understood the amazing-ness of what I had in my ‘backyard’. High school, for me, meant weekends spent in Central Park and subway rides to The Village. Museums and galleries were common activities and the food, oh, the food. My mother will read this and remind me how much I wanted out, and she’s right. I couldn’t wait to leave. But it wasn’t because I didn’t love it. I just needed more space. Even now, when I visit, my chest tightens in the crowds, and I breathe easier when I step out of the car in my driveway at home—42 miles north. But I do love to visit. Especially in the fall. It’s something to take your child to playgrounds that you played in as a girl and walk through fields you hung out in as a teenager. There’s a visceral pang of lost youth watching your child climb on the same statues you did, his small body supported by the same strong hands as mine once was. How is it that thirty plus years has passed? When my first son was born we lived there. He played in those places. He learned to walk in those meadows. A whole lifetime ago and just a few years passed. He started eighth grade last month. And his brother. No longer a baby. Visiting my parents always makes me consider time. It’s all so close, but so very very far away.

no sooner had i made my decision about blogging over (there) than i read this. (thank you sarah.) i had a complete forehead smacking moment. why move four years of blogging over (there) when all i’m really looking to do is consolidate? duh. just take this (much newer, much smaller) blog over there. i’m really truly sorry for the inconvenience friends but i over thought it. if you’re looking for me, look no farther then where you always have.

If you’ve been visiting this place for any length of time you’ve probably been around for some changes. Seems nothing ever stays the same for long (good thing too). You probably know a few things about me—maybe you know that I studied photography as an undergraduate at the University of Maine, or that I threw over the idea of shooting professionally in favor of, what I thought was, a more secure career path. Maybe you know that I started blogging originally as a way to connect with others who were knitting and soon after that, quilting. Some of you have witnessed a single mom blend a family, and a nine year old boy become a brother. More recently you might have read about my full-circle return to a career in photography and some personal questions that went along with that. I’ve wondered (more than once) out loud about this place, and it’s purpose. For a time it seemed most practical to keep personal and business separate (in real life as well as on the blog). But it’s become clear to me that updating two sites has become a chore—no longer the labor of love it was from the start.

One of my arguments for keeping two sites active was that potential clients didn’t need to hear about my personal life. I feared that I would shy away from the issues that have made this place powerful for me—the ones that connected you and I in the first place—and that the self promotion which goes on at a ‘business-blog’ would turn friends away.

But I keep coming back to something a wise friend once told me. She said that she was her business and that branding it meant sharing herself with her clients. And I’ve always admired that attitude. So, after nearly four wonderful years spent here with you all, I will be retiring this space. I will be blogging at TheSoulshineBlog.com and it’s my plan to continue talking about the things that matter to me over there—to share my life and my work. If you’ve liked it here, I’m hoping you’ll like it there too. I invite you to click over and subscribe and follow along with the next steps on this journey. I wish to thank each and every one of you who have made this experience what it has been for me. The connections I’ve made, the encouragement I’ve received, the expanding of my world—all are of untold worth in my life. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

with the power back on, and most of the tomatoes ripened and harvested, we plowed ahead into another school year. as if on cue the weather turned cool and jeans long since pushed to the back of the closet were found. the roads here are peppered with yellow buses and bedtimes are systematically earlier. no one is playing in the yard after dinner and my planner resembles a crossword puzzle. no matter what the calendar says, it’s autumn.

while summer’s logistics were complicated—the juggling that came with two children home and a business to run—i’ve admittedly been dreading returning to this schedule. perhaps it’s the transition that i find difficult, but i think it’s more likely the pace. everything is suddenly on superspeed and i just know i won’t be able to keep up. gone are the lazy mornings when the boys roll out of bed on their own timeline (toddler and teenager—you can guess who sleeps late and who rises early). gone are the impromptu evening visits from neighbors and late afternoon trips to the pool. and in their stead, alarm clocks and homework and charts.

i have yet to embrace what will eventually be the joys of this season. the colors and the slow cooking and the sweaters.

today i’m just going to mourn summer’s departure.

powering up my phone this morning i was assaulted by the number 1 flashing at me—marking the first day of september. how i didn’t know it was coming has mostly to do with the hurricane that tore through here a few days ago. amazing how no power in your house can discombobulate you so. frankly, it’s a date i’m always in denial about – even when my electronic calendars are working.

but these last days threw me for a loop.

i’d like to tell you a tale of family bonding and epic board games, and indeed there was some (i kicked some go-fish ass). but the moral of this story is addiction. it wasn’t the lights we missed. no, candles and flashlights are adequate (at least during the last days of august). it turns out that i’m a power junkie. my dishwasher and laundry machines provide a sweet taste, but the delicious whirring sound of my laptop was the fix i was jonesing for.

news, communication, entertainment—contact. the hand crank radio that was a gift from my ex-mother-in-law for holiday 1999 (impending millennium doom) provided some small measure, but at around day three i would have given away one of my kids for some wifi or a working cell signal.

after whining a few times about not being able to watch tv, the little one took it in stride (as they do) but the big one clearly takes after his mama. cranky, jittery, moody—classic signs of withdrawal.

three days in, out of sheer desperation, i took a risk. i gave him a job. a job that usually falls outside of the scope of stuff he does around here (stuff he does around here being a frequent bone of contention in our family). i asked him to help with the littles. and, guess what? he stepped it up. at dinner at a neighbor’s he took six children under the age of five upstairs and gave me and two other weary mamas a break. for hours. who knew that he had camp counsellor abilities hiding under all that teenage angst?

so the next day during the witching hour i asked him to do it again and crossed my fingers. five dollars and an hour to myself later he had babysat his little brother for the first time. and no blood was shed.

silver linings people. silver linings.