Christmas Poinsettia

I was barely five years old and the brick steps in her garage were high. The railing was of little help to my short arms as I balanced from step to step behind my mother. As soon as we entered the kitchen the warm smell of a boiling chicken in a pot on the stove met my round face. My cheeks flushed pink with the sound of her voice, “Good morning Charity Ann…” I shyly tucked behind my mother’s hip, peeking around to my Nannie, my mother’s mother. She was at her usual spot at the stove stirring and checking. She was midway through her workday at 9am, as she often rose before the sun to read her Bible. A farm girl from Franklin, Virginia, she knew the importance of home cooking and hard work. She was equal magic and intimidation.


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Annual Honey Tasting Party!

The golden hours of photography are in the morning and evening when the sun meets the earth in a warm hug. No matter the subject the light engulfing it is magical. Rory calls this golden light “pixy dust” and tries to catch it in her hands. I wholeheartedly agree. It is the time of wonder and imagination that twinkles in flits and glimmers, challenging us to chase it and catch it in our lives.


Honey is a similar God-given twinkling-golden wonder, but the difference is you can taste it!

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Summers of Childhood

His soft cheeks were puffed with air while his eyes were squinting behind fogged plastic. The plastic strap was digging into his red hair as he kicked farther down, reaching for the rubber toy dancing on the pool’s bottom depths. Ryder came up triumphantly with the rubber torpedo in hand. A broad smile stretched across his sunscreen-slathered face. Summer time, a time of exploring the wonders of God’s creation – the dangers, the beauties, the constant challenges that equally compel us to keep trying and exhaust us.




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Cheeseburger Pie

There have been many perks to marrying into Chris’ family. High up there is his mom’s cooking. As I’ve mentioned before, I took the “This isn’t how my mom’s tasted…” comments early in our marriage in stride. Primarily because I was trying to achieve exactly that – her recipes – because they taste so good. I did not grow up with a casserole menu. I grew up on the soup pot menu – got a few things, throw them in a pot and hope for the best because that’s what mom made for Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday…


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