As the teams head out to race again, they bail. The boat is leaned deliberately to collect the water and dump it. I love the ease in the stances of both sailors and the teamwork.
This is the hot swap at the regatta at Lake Whatcom last Sunday: where the boats come in, switch teams and all go out again. Fast and furious! I like the symmetry, all lined up.
I am the neophyte photographing sailing.
For Thursday doors.
For the Daily Prompt: brave.
I took this in 2010, at a synchronized swim meet. These are very young swimmers, yet each girl is being lifted by three others, who are lifting only by swimming. They may not touch the bottom. It takes enormous amounts of practice and teamwork.
I hope that more women speaking up and saying “Me too” and refusing to tolerate the Weinsteins and all of the others will change the pattern.
Strong girls and brave women.
Hooray for the eclipse, and everyone of all sizes and colors and genders who came together and enjoyed it!
I did NOT get a good picture. I was working. And ours was partial.
In the afternoon I got up and saw this mother, daughter pair resting in the back yard. I am on a busy street for our small town, but the fence along the street makes this a quiet place, unseen by cars and walkers and local dogs. I love that the younger one is mimicking mom’s position.
I was already a mother when I became a mother. Long before I had my son. I just didn’t know it.
I became a mother at three. My mother had tuberculosis when I was born. Luckily she coughed blood a month before, otherwise I would not be here. I was born in a tuberculosis sanatorium, the first baby there in 25 years. My mother said that the staff was hugely excited about a baby. She was drugged to the gills while reading about the French Revolution and hallucinated Marie-Antonette’s head on a pole and the guillotine. She joked that she could never read about the French Revolution again. I was born, she kissed me, and I was swept away so that I would not get tuberculosis.
I was with my father and father’s family and then with my maternal grandparents. I came home to my parents at nine months. Adults kept handing me to other adults. I concluded that they were loving but stupid and couldn’t be trusted for a moment.
My sister was born five days before I turned three. My mother said that I met guests at the door and said, “Come see my baby.” Mine, because these adults don’t understand the needs of a baby, and I want her to feel loved and safe. No one will give my baby away!
Later my mother would tell a story about my sister worrying about Kindergarten. My mother could not reassure her. Neither could my father. I spoke up: “All you learn is colors, numbers and ABC and you already know those. I taught you.” My mother claimed that my sister was instantly reassured. I don’t remember: these are my mother’s stories and she is gone. But I have collected mother daughter pictures and small statues, just a few, all my life. And I wanted to have children. I liked surgery and obstetrics, but I chose family medicine, because I want to have children and to see them and be a mother too.
Health and joy and safety and comfort to all mothers and fathers and children everywhere.
Photrablogger’s Mundane Monday #107, spring color!
My daughter and I ferried and drove to Bellingham yesterday and stopped for lunch. The rhododendron is just ready to open and the colors are so bright and cheerful!