Kyle had gone back to Pizza Hut and had spent an ‘undisclosed’ amount of money, trying to buy a 25 cent ring that was just exactly like the one he had proposed to Katie with in Hawaii. So Kyle was a little disappointed he didn’t come away with the look-alike ring, but I certainly wasn’t empty handed thanks to his persistence. In fact, both my pockets were bulging with plastic bubble containers with bright pop-tops…all protecting a very precious 25 cent jewel. They were perfect for this ring shot: so thank you, Kyle!

& I might have rocked the pink stone for good luck during the ceremony…on my right hand, of course!

Katie & Kyle are getting married today! & I’m the lucky enough one who gets to share their day with them: well, me and my camera Before the ceremony starts, here’s chapter two of their engagement story…

Chapter 2: September 22, 2009

It was Katie’s birthday and we had tickets to go to a luau. It included dinner and a show with all the traditional Hawaiian dancers and music. It was awesome. In fact, everything we did on Maui was awesome. We had gone on a bus trip to Hannah, around the east end of the island and met a couple on their honeymoon from the UK. Turns out they were seated at the table right next to us.

I could tell Katie was thinking about them and how they seemed happily married and she wished she was. She just seemed kind of down. I had a twenty five cent ring in my pocket and I was getting more nervous as the night went on. Little did Katie know that in a couple of hours she would have a surprise, and a really important question to answer. It was all I could do to not ask her right then and there. Then before dinner was served, the luau host invited the crowd to a short dance by the water for all the honeymooners and married couples. This didn’t help her mood. We ate dinner and watched the show. I knew I had to ask her tonight. The scene played out in my head over and over again. I kept fiddling with the ring in my pocket. I had my hand around it several times to almost pull it out and ask her. I wanted to wait till we were somewhere by ourselves to pop the big question. I kept thinking about what I was going to say. I knew with almost no uncertainty that she would say yes, but I still had a million butterflies in my stomach. I missed my chance at the luau and we were heading back to the condo. While we were walking up the steps I asked Katie if she wanted to go for a moonlit walk on the beach. The water was just right there; you could hear the waves splashing up on the shore. She said no. If she only knew.

We went inside and told my Grandma about the night. It was only about 10 o’clock, it wasn’t too late. So I asked her again about a moonlit walk on the beach. I can’t remember exactly what I said to convince her, but she finally agreed. I still had the ring in my pocket, and by this time I think I had two million butterflies in my stomach. We walked down to the beach and walked a ways and then turned back. My heart was beating so fast. Thumping up into my throat. Katie asked what was wrong, and I told her that all the walking was making my tired. And that is when I did it. I asked the love of my life to marry me on a beautiful white sandy beach of Maui. I kneeled down, pulled out a little plastic bubble, popped the top off and pulled out my twenty five cent ring. The look on her face was like something I had never seen on her before. She was so surprised. It didn’t take long for her to say yes.

The moon was shinning, but there still wasn’t enough light to see the perfect, hand-selected ring on her left hand. I can remember her looking at it when we got closer to the building and there was more light, and just looking at me and smiling. In fact she didn’t stop smiling for a while. When we got back inside we showed my Grandma and she said “Oh, that’s why he wanted to take you for a walk on the beach tonight” She looked at the ring and I think instinct told her to say how nice it was. It wasn’t until the next day that she examined it closer that she figured out that it wasn’t a high-dollar piece. I had pulled it off with a twenty five cent ring.

The next day Katie sent a picture message to, I think everyone she knows, of the ring on her finger. She got responses like “How big” and “Very Nice”. She was so very happy. She was engaged, maybe not married yet, by her 30^th birthday.  I hope it was the biggest birthday surprise of her life.

The ring, it turns out, didn’t wear like normal jewelry. It kept getting tangled in her hair. It ended up getting lost while up in the mountains. I suspect it broke, after all it was only twenty five cents. I had the other two rings I had bought while trying to get a good one, still in the center console. So Katie dug out the ruby red oval and put it on her ring finger. This served as her engagement ring until we picked out a “real” ring about a week later.

Kyle & I went to high school together. More specifically, we spent at least a class a day together for all four years, which is sort of a novelty in our big high school: Agriculture Class. We sat through hours of tool identification & meat judging. Then there was soil judging & record books. I was the girl who tried to hang with the guys, and received all kinds of teasing & torture from them for doing so: I once was put in a very successful headlock. You know, the kind where you can’t breath. It wasn’t Kyle, but I’m positive he didn’t mind the momentary silence. lol. So I think Kyle gets a kick out of us meeting again like this: me the wedding photographer, him the groom who gets to make fun of me when I leave my lens cap on. (That hardly ever happens. Promise. lol. Maybe.) I asked Kyle to tell his twenty five cent ring story, as I wasn’t sure I could do it justice.

Chapter one: the Twenty Five Cent Ring

I was thinking a lot about asking my girlfriend of almost 3 years, Katie, to marry me. The subject had come up a couple of times and I think Katie finally was about to give up on me ever asking her. Katie was bummed out that she would soon be turning 30 and wouldn’t be married. I wanted to wait for the perfect time and place to ask.

The perfect time and place presented itself. We got a really cool chance to go to Hawaii, and so I thought it would be the perfect place. And it just so happened that we would be there over Katie’s 30^th birthday. I had the time and place, but what about a ring? You have to have a ring to propose. I didn’t know what size her finger was: who would? I thought about somehow covertly measuring one of the rings she wears, but she never takes them off long enough. I came up with the idea of buying a ring out of one of the twenty five cent machines, the ones you see at the grocery stores and what not. I went around to several stores and couldn’t find any that had rings. I ran out of places to check and then I remembered that Pizza Hut has twenty five cent machines. It took about 3 tries to get a ring that would work: one that wasn’t a ruby red oval, or a big dark blue star. I took it out of its little clear plastic case just long enough to know that it was the perfect one, a small light green circular “stone”, cut like a real diamond.

I had the ring; I just didn’t know how I would get it to Hawaii with us. I thought about having my Grandma, who was taking us, smuggle it there with her, but I would have to tell her what I was planning to do (see I hadn’t told anyone about proposing other than some guys at work that I had ran my plan by to make sure I wasn’t forgetting anything.) So I had to get the ring to Hawaii on my own. I stuffed the ring, still inside it’s protective plastic bubble, down inside one of my shoes that were going to go in the suitcase and then stuffed some paper towels down in to hold it in place. My only fear now was that she would unpack the suitcase once we got there and discover the surprise.

to be continued…

This isn’t the twenty five cent ring, or the engagement ring, but it is a ring that Katie got for her birthday while she was in Hawaii.

So here I was, wandering over hill & dale in wonderland, in a funk. & for no great reason. I was having a great weekend. I was in love with Edgefield. I was shooting. & shooting makes me happy. But not this shoot. I just wasn’t feeling it. I was shooting flowers & garden sculptures & plants. I was shooting worn brick walls & rocking chairs on porches & trellises covered in vines. I was shooting robin’s in the trees & rabbits in the carrots. In a funk.

“What’s wrong,” Eric asked?

“Why?” I replied.

“You’re quiet.” He said. “Are you getting good stuff?”

Yeah, me being quiet is a pretty good give away. Just ask anyone I’ve shot: I turn into my best self. I squeal & oooh & dance in a circle. Cause I’m getting pretty pictures! Pictures that makes me happy! Pictures that makes me squeal!

“I’m hating it. I’m hating everything I’m shooting.” I said. “I just hate myself when I shoot ’stuff.’ I don’t want to shoot ’stuff’. It doesn’t do anything for me. I don’t want to shoot ’stuff’; I want to shoot people.”

After a 14 hour day of shooting people at Saturday’s wedding, you would think I’d be satisfied, happy, thankful for a day off. But no, what I thought I wanted was for a bride in her white dress to magically appear walking through the poppy-lined path. (That’s me saying: have your wedding at Edgefield & invite me to capture your day!) I would even settle for Alice with her gold ringlets & slippered-feet. Or I could just high-jack the engagement session that a photographer was shooting across the way. ”Excuse me,” I would say & tap the photographer on the shoulder. “My name’s Shannon & I shoot people. Do you mind if I just borrow your adorable people for a few shots?” KIDDING! I wouldn’t; but I wanted to.

So when I got home I just dumped my images in a folder and ignored them. I ignored them for a month. Then I opened them up & this is what I found. I found a wonderland. I found magical details & a beautiful morning that I’d give anything to just jump into the nearest rabbit hole & magically return to. & I realized that the ’stuff’ I was shooting wasn’t so bad after all. & I realized that I’m not half bad at shooting ’stuff” as I wanted to think. & that you can find good ’stuff” even in funks.

So come on! I’m shaking-off my Monday funk. You should too. & jump into the rabbit hole with me…

BUT, I think I redeem myself by having a few exceptions to the rule: I LOVE lavender whip cream on rich dark chocolate desserts. It lightens the heavy chocolate, refreshes, adds life & makes my eyes get big!! I ENJOY walking through lavender fields…especially if I’m wearing a big hat. I ADORE bouquets of lavender: dried, fresh, either way it sings of country romance! I’m dying to shoot a fotoNovella in a lavender field: who’s up for it?! And then I have one last lavender admission: I drank 7+ glasses of lavender lemonade at the Lavender Festival. So yeah…you can say I have an affinity for lavender lemonade, regardless of my so-called aversion to lavender.

So I still had plenty to celebrate at the Lavender Festival at Purple Ridge Lavender in Hermiston, OR. Jordawn Wambeke did an amazing job of planning and coordinating the event with the owners of Purple Ridge, Jim & Sheri. It was a romantic day of lavender lemonade, antiques, artists, musicians, local wines all on the lavender breeze! Can you smell it yet?

View more pictures in the Lavender Festival facebook album.

Riding becomes a ritual. Tugging on your worn, fit-to-foot boots you grab the halter and head to the pasture where your equine friend is nodding his head at you in welcome & stomping his foot in his anticipation of the ride. You slip the halter on and head to the hitching post. The slip knot is old hat; you could do it in your sleep; it’s ritual. Then the curry comb, brush, hoof pick, comb…they could practically do the grooming by themselves. The blanket, saddle, they fit perfectly to the curve of his back & the bit, well, he knows what to do with it. Head bent, he accepts it & the reins go flying over his neck. All’s ready for the ride.

You’ve been riding since your were a kid, so even the sweet nothings, murmurs & kisses you drop on the top of his muzzle, you do by rote after your years of companionship. It’s just you & your horse. He knows your mannerisms & you his. You communicate in whispers & whinnies, in nudges of the muzzle & caresses of your hand.  And he doesn’t turn away when you kiss him. He doesn’t get tired of your attention or tired of customary greetings & he loves ritual. Your rituals.

But some rides are different. Some rides aren’t simply ritual. Some rides are monumental, even if the rituals of the ride are the same. Sunday’s ride was more than a ritual for Kim & her kids. Sunday’s ride was one to enjoy, as if it were the last. Kim brushed & curried Bo with the help of her kids. They put the saddle on him & Paige’s pony & tightened up the cinches. Gavin jumped up and down, up and down: SO excited to be on top of HIS horse, Bo. Gavin knew the rituals, but today was different. It had been a while since Kim had dared to ride her horse, but this ride Kim was determined would happen. It would be a ride for her, a ride for her & Bo, a ride for her & her kids, a ride to remember. So once she was in the saddle, Kim smiled through the pain. Smiled because this was a ritual she loves. ” This makes me miss it even more!” she said. As a young girl Kim had a ritual of riding every day, but as surgery after surgery took it’s toll on her body, her rides have become few & far between. This week she flew to John Hopkins for a knee surgery which will be followed by yet another trip back east in a few weeks for the most extensive back surgery she’s had to date. Heaven forbid her doctors ever found out she rode Bo on Sunday, but Kim was determined she was going to have this ride, knowing riding is going to be one of those things that after this next surgery will most definitely make her doctor’s brows furrow. Deep.

So Sunday, before she flew out to Baltimore, Kim & her kids enjoyed a ride, as if it were her last…