July Little Moments

July has been full of little moments. I try to pay attention to not only the big things going on, but looking back through my camera roll, I can see that there were lots of small, impactful micro experiences that life sent me too.

While some of these little moments make a difference as a larger whole, others are literally just passing moments. Ones I generally forget about the second they pass. And those are the exact reason I’m so glad to have photographic evidence that they ever existed.

I can’t begin to tell you the amount of joy to see and ride one of these cute rainbow Aquabus boats in Vancouver on our family vacation early this month. As simple as it was, I feel like this short ride will forever be locked in as a core memory for me. Small, agile, and perfectly practical for getting around in the city with heavy traffic and waterways.

I did a hard thing this month. I rode the Peak to Peak gondola in Whistler, BC. Ironically, I wasn’t scared of the height (although decided that once I was up there, I was), I was more scared of getting motion sick. Which I did despite having taken medication and wearing a patch behind my ear for it. Either way, I showed up for myself to do something scary - and I survived! It was beautiful even I was counting down the seconds to it being over.

I always find joy in a well-curated and beautiful book store. This one with a rolling ladder felt like one from my dreams, and the shelves are my favorite color! Wandering through this one in Whistler was a moment of quiet happiness.

This month was Raspberry Season in my yard. I’m always endlessly thankful for the previous owners of our home to have planted all these. It’s been my job to be the caregiver to them for nine seasons so far, and this was the least effort I put in to making sure they were tended to. To my surprise and delight, I still had endless raspberries and now a very full freezer full of frozen berries for the rest of the year to make my favorite berry crisp, add to smoothies, and a few batches of jam.

This is one of a number of photos on my camera roll that showed me photographic evidence of how much I helped others this month. This isn’t meant to be a toot-your-own-horn type of statement, but when you’re cleaning out a Depression-era hoarder’s home, you realize that giving away their things and stuff is like freeing the shackles the stuff had on them. It was so nice to see other people in her neighborhood benefit from all these garden supplies.

I’m always working on my watercolor skills. I’m still very much a beginner, but this little scene from my mind came up and out of my hands quickly. I really like how loose and imperfect it is. I think that’s the entire reason I enjoy watercolor, even if I never get to be “great” at it.

This empty room signifies progress for me. After months and months of cleaning, my grandmother’s room was finally empty this month. To say I’m glad it’s done is an understatement. To say I’m a little battered and bruised emotionally and mentally from this project is also very much an understatement.

The photo is a little too zoomed in and blurry, but the hummingbirds have been loving our crocosmia in our yard this month. It’s been so fun to sit on the patio and watch them come and go. They’re truly magical.

The moment that I made fun a priority. Being so tired out from the mental (and physical) gymnastics of working at my grandmother’s house, I almost said no to getting together with friends. What was supposed to be a day of blueberry picking, turned into a years-later deja vu moment for me and two friends. These kids have been growing up together for close to 10 years. It’s sweet and bittersweet all at once.

It had been weeks since I painted last, so I made myself sit down and “just make something.” This is the something I made. No self judgement, no trying to make something specific, just getting color and shapes on paper. I’m happy with how freeing that exercise can be sometimes.

It’s been so helpful for me to look back at these little moments this month. In the midst of what feels like so much transition right now, seeing the tiny things that happened (or almost didn’t), I can relish in the fact that I’m still here in the present moment. Now might not feel perfect, but now is where I am.