I preface this post by saying that all the photographs in the world couldn't convey just how wonderful Bar Harbor was. Neither photos nor words can do justice to how perfect the weather was; how gracious our hosts were; how wonderful the food was; or how peacefully pretty the entire town was.
I take my camera everywhere and photograph life endlessly knowing just how precious small reminders of a journey can be once that part of a life is long gone. All too often, time and memory pass quickly over parts of our life so worth remembering, and tokens of these moments become invaluable in stirring up stronger, more vivid memories.
In looking at a photograph of a loved one long gone, I find my eye catching sight of a hand-sewn shirt and suddenly I am five years old, sitting on the floor, picking favourites out of a jar of buttons I have dumped on the floor - the sewing machine whirling in time to my mother's slippered foot going up and down on the pedal on the floor beside me. To travel back like that through a simple glimpse at a photograph is a remarkable gift - one that keeps me clicking.
Someday, I hope that one of the many (four hundred plus!) pictures I took of our weekend in Maine will bring me right back to that weekend and all of the love and promise that came with it.