Spring Photo-Op
Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Generally, Wyatt is the more photogenic of our two kids. His mood is almost always reflected on his face, making it seem rather effortless to capture raw emotion on camera. Avery, on the other hand, is much more serious and cautious. Needless to say, the camera has grown quite accustomed to snapping shots of Avery's wide-eyed, emotionless stare.

During our layover in Parkdale (Spring Blossom Excursion) over the weekend, the kids and I were waiting for Eric outside the brew pub when Avery discovered a small, secluded little spot where she could climb some steps. Over. And over. Again.

Although the building was a little bit dingy, I began to appreciate its small town rustic appearance. And then it happened. I morphed into Psycho Mom, snapping picture upon picture of her little girl playing on some dirty steps. It turned out to be a great backdrop, rendering some pretty decent pictures, despite her lack of emotion (and the giant purple paci covering nearly half of her face).

My favorite


A few others:








2 Comments:
Blogger Lori had this to say:

I love the bottom one. Makes me want to know what she is thinking?

April 22, 2009 at 4:22 PM 


OpenID englandlikethecountry had this to say:

Great photos! Love the last one. Reminds me of Flashdance. :-)

April 28, 2009 at 9:20 AM 


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My Wine Personality:
For the most part I’m a chardonnay, as I consider myself to exhibit a somewhat sunny and mellow disposition (most of the time), but because I find a tremendous amount of joy out of showering my two kids with hugs and kisses, I also possess the subtle sweetness often found in a riesling. But don’t be fooled. I love a great outdoor adventure and am willing to try anything once. This occasional display of boldness is thought to match that of a cabernet, whereas my appreciation for nature suggests that I have an earthy component to my personality—very characteristic of a merlot. (more)

 



“Wine rejoices the heart of man and joy is the mother of all virtues.”
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, 1771