Sunday, July 31, 2011

I heart macro

Lavender smoke by FragilePhoto
Lavender smoke, a photo by FragilePhoto on Flickr.

studio waterstone

Monday, July 25, 2011

Baby Opossum

Baby Opossum by FragilePhoto
Baby Opossum, a photo by FragilePhoto on Flickr.

My dad brought home this little guy (or girl) today. He said it was in his office at work. He let me take some shots of it before letting it go in our backyard. I thought it was so cute :X
Click the photo to see more on my Flick.

Sunday, July 24, 2011

I heart macro

studio waterstone

Sunday, July 10, 2011

I heart macro

It's late, but I wanted to upload this anyway.

Friday, July 8, 2011

"Here we are, all of us, basically alone, separate creatures, just circling each other, all searching for that slightest hint of a real connection. Some look in the wrong places, some they just give up hope because in their mind they're thinking 'Oh there's nobody out there for me,' but all of us, we keep trying over and over again. Why? Because every once in a while... every once in a while, two people meet and there's that spark, and yes, Bones, he's handsome and she's beautiful and maybe that's all they see at first, but making love... making love... that's when two people become one."
- Special Agent Booth; Bones

Monday, July 4, 2011

I never thought I could miss someone this much, but your existence has made me realize that it is, in fact, possible...

Sunday, July 3, 2011

I heart macro

studio waterstone

Saturday, July 2, 2011

Oh, nostalgia

This morning the coffee I was drinking tasted the way my grandmother's house used to smell. If you've never tasted something that reminded you of the way something smells, then I'm sure that won't make any sense.

Several tastes and smells remind me of my grandmother's house.. the way it used to be, anyway. Every time I smell cinnamon, specifically cinnamon waffles, it reminds me of her house. I used to go over in the morning to help her out for the day-- do her laundry, help clean around the house, make her lunch, etc. And when I'd show up at 7 or 8 a.m., the kitchen was always filled with this scent of coffee and waffles. And now every time I smell those things, I think of her/her house.

Just a week or so ago, I went to her house. My oldest brother lives there with my grandfather. Things are so different. It doesn't smell the way it used to, it doesn't look the way it used to, and it doesn't feel the way it used to. But, although she's been gone for 5 years now, I can't call it anything but my grandma's house, no matter how many changes it goes through or who resides within it's walls.