Random Flowers from Recent Early Morning Walks with Rebekah

I love all four seasons of the year and, although I'm not a professional photographer by any means, I love caputuring the natural beauty that catches my eye with my cell phone.

I don't understand all the fancy camera gadges on it, much less how to use them. I simply point and shoot, so please forgive me in advance for my lack of artistry and basic skill.

We won't even talk about my lack of gardening skills. All plants and flowers in these photos live nowhere on my property, which is good. No plant should come live with me; it's a death sentence for it.

"And a little child shall lead them"

My head has an interesting mix of ideas this morning.

It's Christmas Eve, and my two of my adult children are already hard at work (I shall soon join them - maybe - for I might be banned from the kitchen in favor of their bonding) preparing our traditional twelve course, Eastern European Christmas Eve dinner.

In the BryonySeries world, it's the day dedicated to werewolves.

And last night, Timothy did an extremely imaginative photo shoot with Bertrand for his first cookbook that Rebekah put together: she prepared and shot all the recipes and formatted the book. I was the taste-tester.

In fact, Timothy staged, and then took, such an interesting mix of photos that we can use most of them (with a few more) for another Bertrand the Mouse book.

Yes, I am going somewhere with this.

During the editing process of "Bryony," the first book in the BryonySeries, my publicist (back when I had a publicist) complimented me on how "in touch" I was with my inner child.

Last night, Timothy showed off his creative inner child, a child he once thought he'd lose.

During this time of year in our newspaper delivering days, we listened to Christmas music as we delivered, including recordings of my favorite albums growing up.

One of them included this version of this song. 

Except we rarely listened to it because it made Timothy sad. I shared a memory of my thoughts when I was eight and trying to picture what that meant.

Fortunately, it didn't come true for any of us; the borders are still there, and we can go in and out whenever we wish. And it showed last night.

So Christmas Eve, BryonySeries werewolf day, Bertrand the Mouse, childhood and childlike attitude - all of these made me think of this verse: “The wolf also shall dwell with the lamb...and a little child shall lead them." Isaiah 1:6

However you worship and wherever you are in your faith journey and approach to life, may you always retain a sense of wonder, awe, and good-old fashioned playfulness.

Now, here is a sampling of Bertrand's culinary adventure. For who else to lead Bertrand through the experience than a professional chef?

Pot Lid Photo Shoot

Tonight I'm helping a friend out with a school project.

Virtually, of course.

And I was told to wear a pot lid.

Soooo...

Like any woman with a collection of hats, which pot lid to choose?

So I modeled a few.

And Rebekah took a few photos.

Decisions, decisions...

BryonySeries Throwback Thursday: My First "Bryony" Photo Shoot!

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

My First "Bryony" Photo Shoot!

Ah, children! Boy, do they keep you humble.

My seventeen-year-old daughter Rebekah accompanied me yesterday to the P. Seth Magosky Museum of Victorian Life in Joliet where a photographer from the Morris Daily Herald took pictures of me in Victorian dress and on the location where we shot the Bryony trailer and music video.

While I changed in a cold upstairs bedroom from my nice warm jeans into a cold satin gown and tied on my tulle-filled bustle, I graciously accepted Rebekah's well-meaning comments of, "You don't look bad for fifty," and "How could you do this without me?"

To prove her point, Rebekah clasped my borrowed jewelry around my neck and balanced my hat atop my head. Next came the hard part: descending the polished wood stairs in a pair of slippery-soled shoes. Pat Magosky, museum curator, stood at the bottom, shaking his head and laughing at my careful, halting steps.

"If I fall down and break my neck," I told him, "I promise to haunt your house forever."

Pat's wife Andrea Magosky entertained us with stories of Joliet's past until the photographer arrived. Then the real fun began. The photographer decided that, for the first picture, she would position me on a small couch near the grand piano. That's when I heard the soft giggle.

"Stop laughing," I warned Rebekah.

The photographer draped my skirts "just so," which elicited another muffled snicker from Rebekah and additional chastisement from me. We repeated that routine several times.

"My kids aren't used to seeing this side of me," I said.

The photographer smiled in understanding.

Next, the photographer snapped a few pictures of me standing between my "Bryony" displays. Rebekah chuckled, then clapped her hand over her mouth.

"Do I have something taped to my back?" the photographer said looking around her.

I glared at Rebekah.

"Since it's such a key part of the story, let's take a few at the piano," the photographer said.

I sat on the bench and placed curved finges over the keys (Note to self: Have James show me a real chord or two for future shoots). Rebekah fled from the room, laughing, laughing, laughing.

The photographer smiled too and good-naturedly finished up with some additional shots of me on the couch.

"I don't take very good pictures," I said.

"These are fine," she replied, still smiling and snapping away.

She selected two interior "Bryony" illustratons and asked me to email them to her, along with the cover and "Bryony" logo. I thanked the photographer for her time, as well as her patience with the peanut gallery. The photographer, who doesn't have children, graciously dismissed it.

Back upstairs, while I switched back into street clothes and Rebekah repacked my costume, we wondered how messy the warehouse might be on a Monday and whether or not any recycling boxes had arrived. I mentally reviewed the story I would finish writing while she worked and hoped I had brought the right notes.

"Did you pack my flash drive?" I asked.

Rebekah shook her head in mock exasperation. "What would you do without me?"

We had returned to common ground.