My husband and I have different ways of recharging our batteries. I left him happily puttering in the yard, and traveled thirty miles south to the city of New Bedford. An old whaling city, much of its charm lies in its historic district with cobblestone streets and original brick buildings. This weekend the city was hosting "Summerfest"-- an annual Arts and Folk music festival. I wandered in and out of the vendor tents, skipping the clothing and jewelry, focusing on art and photography, ignoring the carved wood displays altogether. I talked myself out of getting a bonsai tree at all three of the bonsai tree vendors. Although, I'd love one, I always talk myself out of a tiny tree. Some day I won't. I flipped through self-published books, not looking directly at the authors grouped under the awnings, although I could feel their hopeful eyes on me. I took pictures of buildings, flowers, and cobblestone streets, and a picture of a building bearing the name of a friend. ...
Life is a series of snapshots meant to be recorded in words. A writer and photographer shares hers.