An old two story farmhouse sits along the roadside in central Florida. At one time, it must have been quite a home , the clues are in the ornate trim and that it has two stories.Caged behind a barbed wire fence, it cries out to be preserved. I dressed it in spring colors to help its appeal. I’d love to peek behind its shuttered windows and learn more of its story.
A stairway. You can’t see what waits at the top .You know for sure what stands at the bottom.Taking that small first step may not require any major physical effort , but getting to the top and making the discovery may change you in ways you never thought possible. Sometimes the smallest steps lead us in directions we never expected.That’s where the courage resides.
There’s something about a pink house , maybe it reminds me of birthday cake decorations or happy spirits, but I noticed that I shoot a good number of pink buildings. The ones I’m sharing here come from Florida, Mississippi, and Tennessee. Maybe it’s a southern thing, but the color is lighthearted . Even in their states of disrepair, there’s beauty.
So there was this lighthouse I wanted to see. Sounds a bit like an earlier post from this week…. This one’s not all about me.My son and I took my mom on a vacation.To get to Egmont Key, you take a boat. No problem, we told my mom (who also grew up in New York City and never learned to swim), not to be afraid because we’d probably see some dolphins and all would be well. The water , a bit choppy , the boat zooming over the water, sunshine on our faces, we all relaxed. I couldn’t wait to land at the dock and start shooting. We drew close to the key and there’s no dock… There’s nothing but water. The crew is instructing us how to descend the ladder and then to wade to the key.My mom’s face said it all. I spoke to a crew member and asked if it would have been too much to tell us before we started out as to how we would get to land. His only answer was that the boat remains anchored until time to leave and if we didn’t want to leave the boat, all we could do was sit. Other passengers weighed in on our side as to how expecting this eighty year – old lady to wade through the water was wrong.But there still was no dock. A surprisingly strong voice next to me said, ” I’ll do it! ” The ladder was the easy part. My son , the first part of this sandwich, hit the water, felt the cold and the current., and grimaced at me.Mom ventured down next. One hand connected to her grandson, the other holding on to me. I descended and put my arms around her. She was shaking. The strong current and uneven bottom made trudging through chest high water difficult.Mom didn’t say a word, her teeth chattered and she put all her energy into holding tight.When we reached the beach, a crew member handed me our things. He had held them over his head as he followed us in. Mom set up camp on the beach, hung out some of her wet things on nearby branches, smiled bravely, and told us to go explore. Totally shocked, I wandered off. The key ‘s beauty is unquestionable. The lighthouse, wide swath of beach and remains of an old fort, all called to my camera. But what remained with me that day , was my mom’s strength and desire to accomplish something that terrified her in order to please us. I’m not sure I would have , but there’s a great lesson in courage for me to learn from this. After all these years , I’m still learning from my Mom.