A Morning I Needed

 

A Morning I Needed

December 12, 2025

Today, just as I was getting ready to leave The Point, the man who bought ten of my calendars last week pulled in and waved me down. He told me he’d already started giving them out, and the people who received them were carried away with them — that they truly loved them. Then he looked me straight in the eye and said my work was good.

I don’t think he’ll ever know how much I needed to hear that. There’s something different about hearing it from someone who doesn’t know me, who doesn’t owe me anything, who’s seeing my work for the very first time. It felt honest, unexpected, and real — a kind of validation that sank deeper than I expected.

For just a moment, it felt like the world tapped me on the shoulder and said,
“See? You’re doing something that matters.”

Driving home, I felt lighter… almost proud of myself. It’s been a long time since I felt that way. Maybe I am turning a corner. Maybe I am going to make it after all.

A Day With My Girls

 

Today was one of those rare, easy, heart-full days I wish I could bottle up and keep forever. I spent the afternoon with McKenna and Caroline — just the three of us — and it did something good for my spirit.

We went shopping, laughing and wandering from makeup aisles to places to eat, with Noah joining us for lunch. I don’t get to see McKenna often since she lives in Texas, so just watching her and Caroline together — joking, talking, being cousins in that effortless way kids can — was a gift all its own.

We walked through the camera section for McKenna, because she’s wanting one for Christmas this year. Over in another aisle, Caroline was dreaming over iPads… she doesn’t know it yet, but hers is already waiting at home.

I even found a cross necklace for Mollie — the kind you pick up and immediately know it’s the one.

Somewhere in all of this, I realized something:
This is the first Christmas in years — many, many years — that I’m actually enjoying.

Maybe it’s the changes I’ve been working through, maybe it’s the simple act of being present, or maybe it’s just that love hits us in these small, ordinary moments… but whatever it is, today felt like a turning point. A good one.

And I’m grateful. Truly.

November 9, 2025

If I’ve Done My Work

Tonight I had a long talk with Lauren. We laughed, shared how our weekends had both felt heavy, and it reminded me how much a simple conversation can lift the weight off a tired heart. She and the girls came to church and sat with me this morning — and just having them there made the day feel a little brighter.

I was telling Lauren and Melissa that I wish I could order enough calendars to give everyone one. I sell them just to cover the cost, and the truth is, I’d gladly give my prints away if someone said they liked them. It’s not about the money — it’s about knowing that something I saw, something I felt, meant enough to someone else that they’d want to hang it in their home.

I may not know how others manage to sell their work, but that’s not really the point, is it? Tonight, I reminded myself that if I can make someone think, smile, laugh, or maybe even question — then I’ve done my work.

And maybe that’s what art is really for — not to be sold, but to be shared.

November 9, 2025
“Sometimes it is the quiet observer who sees the most.“ ~ Kathryn L. Nelson
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 The Quiet Measure of Worth

Some mornings arrive heavy — not because the light is missing, but because I forget how to see it.

Today was one of those mornings. The old whisper of doubt was louder than usual, telling me I’m not good enough, not seen, not there yet. I thought about the pictures that didn’t turn out the way I hoped, and how someone else’s work seemed to shine brighter than mine. I let that old ache creep in — the one that says maybe it’s time to give up.

But then I remembered something I already knew, deep down: art isn’t measured in sales, or likes, or compliments that come and go. It’s measured in moments — in the quiet places where connection happens. It’s in the stillness of a sunrise that makes someone pause long enough to breathe again. It’s in a picture of a cat yawning in the window light that makes someone smile without even knowing why.

I realized I’ve been given something far better than attention. I’ve been given eyes to see and a heart that feels. I’ve been given the chance to share small bits of peace with others, even on the mornings when I can’t find it for myself.

As I sat there watching the pelican, the water soft and silver in the first light, I realized that maybe I’m like him — just waiting, watching, still showing up even when the sky feels heavy. The truth is, I don’t need to outshine anyone. I just need to keep noticing, keep creating, keep being present.

Because sometimes the quiet observer really does see the most.

And today, that’s enough for me.
The Point, Pascagoula 

 

Hands That Know the Water

November 6, 2025

“Less is more.” ~ Ludwig Mies van der Rohe

I’ve learned that sometimes what you don’t show in a picture can tell the story best.

This morning, it wasn’t the man’s face that caught my attention — it was his hands. The way he held the reel told me everything I needed to know. You could see years of patience and practice written in those lines.

I like to think those hands have known both calm mornings and stubborn fish, tangled lines and quiet victories. There’s a peace that comes from time spent near the water, and somehow his hands carried all of that in them.

Maybe that’s what photography is really about for me — seeing the meaning tucked into the smallest details. A hand. A shadow. A moment that never comes again.

River Park, Pascagoula, MS

 

“The Light Comes Back”
November 01, 2025 - Saturday

There was a time not too long ago when the mornings felt heavy — when even getting out of bed came with a little rush of worry. I wondered if that light I’d chased for so many years had finally slipped beyond my reach.

But the thing about the sun is… it always finds a way back. Slowly, quietly, without fanfare — the light returns.

These days, I’m feeling it again. The mornings don’t scare me anymore. I’m taking the kids to school, laughing with my grandsons, and finding pictures everywhere I look. Even my little cat, Doodle, has become a muse — full of energy and surprises, reminding me that life is meant to be played with.

I don’t take any of it for granted — the calm mornings, the laughter, or the simple peace of feeling alive again.

So here’s to the light — the one out there on the horizon and the one that comes back inside us, when we least expect it. 🌅

 

From Shadows to Sunrise

 

From Shadows to Sunrise

August 18, 2025
In April of this year I could not bring myself to step outside, days when the world felt heavy and colorless. I didn’t want to do anything—not even the things that once brought me joy. My camera sat untouched, collecting dust like a forgotten part of me.

A few months ago, I truly believed I’d never feel good again. I thought that spark was gone for good, that the best I could do was just exist.

But here I am.

Not only stepping outside, but chasing sunrises again. Not just taking photos, but feeling them. Laughing. Living. Picking up my camera with excitement instead of obligation. The light I thought I had lost is coming back, and with it, a sense of wonder I thought was gone forever.

I’m still on the journey, but today, I’m grateful—for the progress, for the beauty, and for the chance to see the world through my lens again.

The Heart Behind the Light

The Heart Behind the Light

August 07, 2025 - Thursday

“Even through the lens of an old heart, there's still something worth seeing.”

This morning it was just a seagull sitting on a piling — quiet, still, not doing anything spectacular — and yet… something in it asked me to stop. To see it. To save it.

I don't always know why I take a picture. I just do. Something stirs and tells me, this moment matters.

Some days I wonder if anyone really notices. I spend time choosing a photo, reading through dozens of quotes until one feels like it belongs — sometimes for me, sometimes because I feel someone out there needs it. And just when I start to think maybe none of it really matters, someone will comment, “Thank you — I needed that.” And then I remember… maybe this is exactly what I’m supposed to do.

Yes, I want people to see my pictures — but more than that, I want them to feel what I felt when I stood there looking at it. I want them to know that there’s still beauty in the little things. That someone still believes in slowing down to notice them.

There’s a part of my heart — old as it may be — that’s still soft. Still full of wonder. Still beating for something.

Maybe that’s why I keep getting up each morning.
Krebs Lake, Pascagoula

 

 

Found Beauty

Found Beauty

August 01, 2025 - Friday

“I just let the pain take over, allowing it to numb the pain of being left behind.” ~ Jessica Sorensen
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This shot is from a few days ago. I had forgotten all about it until I passed the spot again this morning and saw the old chair still sitting there.
There was garbage scattered all around — the mess left behind after someone cleaned out an old store — but this chair caught my eye. Something about it… still upright, still shaped by the stories it’s carried.
Maybe I should do a whole layout of nothing but abandoned, thrown-out chairs. Think there’s a niche for that? 😄 I’ve heard of people making money off stranger things.
But honestly — if even one photo makes someone smile or feel something… then I’ve done my job. I’m doing what I enjoy, and I hope it brings a little light or laughter into your day too.  Pascagoula, MS 

 

Just Use a Card, Pawpaw

 

Just Use a Card, Pawpaw

July 31, 2025 Thursday

 “Sometimes when I need a miracle, I look into my grandchild’s eyes and realize I’ve already created one.” – Unknown
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Today has been a full Pawpaw kind of day, and let me tell you — I am worn out! I had Colton with me from early this morning, and we stayed busy from sunup until Daddy-O picked him up.

After we dropped Charlie off at school, Colton and I headed to the Beach Park. We played, laughed, and soaked in the morning light. Back home, the fun didn’t slow down one bit. Around 11:00, he crawled up into my lap and just melted into me. By 11:30, he was sound asleep and didn’t wake until nearly 2:30.

There’s something so special about that moment — holding him while he sleeps so peacefully. Knowing he feels safe, warm, and loved in my arms... well, it means more than I could ever put into words.

I’ve got a little story that gave me a good belly laugh today:
On the way to pick up Charlie this morning, we passed by the Waffle House. Colton spotted it and said, “Pawpaw, let’s stop and get waffles!” I told him, “I don’t have any money, buddy.” Without missing a beat, he said,
“That’s okay, Pawpaw — just use a card!”

I laughed so hard I couldn’t wait to tell Gage. That little boy is something else — smart, sweet, and just full of life. He’s a handful, sure… but he holds a big, big part of my heart.

Here’s a picture from the park this morning. One look at that face, and you’ll know exactly why today meant so much.