A Quiet House, Sunrise, and Pawprints
It’s within my very quiet house, I am reflecting on last weeks blissful chaos.
Finn the Wolfhound takes his morning nap on the couch
The house was full of family for an early Christmas where we could all be together. Mom and dad had flown in from British Columbia. My oldest son, his wife, and stepdaughter arrived from Alberta. My youngest son who works away, and his girlfriend. My husband who also often works away. My sister, and her two kids.
My 175 lb. Irish wolfhound decided it was the opportune moment to come down with some mouth issue that left him foaming and drooling exorbitant amounts of saliva, that inevitably flung itself all over floors, walls, ceilings, and unfortunately any guest in his line of fire.
In hindsight, my family may never come back.
It was loud and messy, and perfect. Minus the gob.
As a professional photographer, sometimes I don’t want to take a picture. Sometimes I just want to sit and enjoy this nanosecond in my life timeline and not have to worry about anything else but the people around me laughing, having fun, sipping their drinks, conversing in their own animated ways. Our family is rarely all together in one place, and with that in mind, there is something to be said for being present, and in the moment.
Not having my face stuck behind the camera, arranging a plethora of bodies in front of the tree while my camera balances on a tripod in some precarious location, with three dogs running about. And some candid shots? Nope, none of those either.
Not this gal. I’m just over here failing as a photographer and matriarch of my clan. Not taking one single photo of my family’s rare togetherness. My excuse - being caught up in the moment. Busy hosting shall we say. Cooking, doing dishes, straightening the dishevelled home and organizing the Christmas chaos. AND delving into this precious time with the fam ♡
Is this missed photo opp anxiety, a symptom of the fear mongering for the almighty social post?
I mean if it’s not on Instagram or Snapchat, did it really happen? Are we really happy? Did we have fun?
I can assure you, it did. We are, and yes it was fun.
So now here I dwell at my computer. The house desolate and still.
Family has all gone home. No sounds but the ringing in my ears and Finneus the Wolfhound licking his leg behind me on my office couch.
I should just be grateful he’s actually cleaning himself.
The stockings are hung by the fireplace with half hazard care. The red balls on the Christmas tree reflect the warm glow from the little tree lights.
Floors are vacuumed, dishes put away, and bedding has all been washed folded.
Except for those fitted sheets, those things are evil.
In the end all guest hosting paraphernalia has been tucked away in its rightful place, waiting for the next family gathering. Which is always way too far away for my liking.
Here are some photos that just happened this morning, in my quiet house full of Christmas spirit, sunrise, and dogs.
Sunrise view from the front deck of our home, here in Saskatoon
Muddy paw prints smear the back patio window.
Reflections of a empty and quiet kitchen in the glass of a picture on the wall
Looking through the double sided fireplace Finn the Irish Wolfhound sleeps on the couch
Undecided, Ayva stands half way in and half way out of the dog door
The Lettuce Episode
So this lettuce incident happened the other day. It was a calamity of errors so to speak. You see when I left the house that day I was confident i had placed it far enough back on the counter that my vegetable seekers would not be able to reach it. .
What I didn’t realize is that they would have the foresight to employ the services of a vegetable hit man - Sir Finneus, the Irish Wolfhound.
So when I got home, there it was, the romaine lettuce I was to have for supper, strewn all over the kitchen floor. Princess Ayva shamelessly feasting on the greenery right in front of me. No guilt. No shame.
And Finn staring down in awe of her brazen zero fucks given.
