Showing posts with label Sarah. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sarah. Show all posts

Feb 17, 2018

Gold and Silver- Images and illusions of the gold rush






There had been nights, many nights, when Sarah had cried herself to sleep from missing him. Then, as the years had passed, she’d had to take out the faded daguerreotype to remember his face. 


Lawless




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Through captivating and largely unedited images ranging from scenes of California’s rivers to the snow-capped peaks of Yukon, this exhibition follows the hopes, dreams and illusions of an entire generation of prospectors who took to the road in search of gold. It also tells the story of two major developments in the history of photography: single images on metal and multiple images on glass and paper.




Jan 24, 2018

“Being a warrior is learning how to cry.”






 "Heels down. Knees, Joey. That's the way. You're a team, remember. Looking good. Much better."
 She moved closer, tapped the heels of one of her two boys.
 He grinned and turned them down. 
Oh, yes, much better, she thought. 
A month before Willy had jerked like a puppet 
every time she'd touched him.
 It was all about trust.


Irish Rebel







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By Lori Hurley - Flickr: Cousins puppy--Tyson, CC BY 2.0, 

https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=31382395





It’s this cycle of compassion  — from human to animal and earth and back again — that Cacciatore hopes will be the heartbeat here.





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 "Did you notice the little guy, dark hair and eyes? He rides Teddy."
 "Aye. He has good form, and he's cheerful about it."
 "He is now. He was a scared little rabbit when Keeley took him on." Sarah swung into the stables, headed directly for the tack room.
 "Afraid of horses?"
 "Of everything. I don't know how people can do that to a child. I'll never understand it."
 "Do what?"
 She chose her tack, murmuring a thanks when Brian took the saddle from her. "Hurt them." 


Irish Rebel








May 2, 2016

Mismatched Socks

Still watching her, Hunter held up three unmatched socks. "Just
how does this happen every week?"

Sarah considered the socks a moment, then sat up. 

"I think there's a parallel universe in the dryer. On the other side of the door, at this very minute, someone else is holding up three unmatched socks."

"An interesting theory." 

Reaching down, Hunter grabbed her. As Sarah's laughter bounced off the lofted ceiling, he dropped her, bottom first, into the basket.


Second Nature


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By Maijlin - Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, 
https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=25295235


This Is Why We Lose So Many Socks In The Washing


It's one of the unanswered questions that has plagued humanity since the invention of the washing machine - why do we lose so many socks? And where do they go to?