Over at her Foothill Home recently, my friend Molly posted her summer to-do list. Inspiring. Mr. T had already started his list, so I combined his with mine, and here’s what we have so far.

Swim with friends and family. Often.

Have a puzzle going at all times. (Stolen from Molly. Check!)

Make good things with our homegrown ollalieberries and plums. Use Blue Chair for inspiration.

Collect rocks with Mr. T and learn about them. (And make some heart stones.)

Set up our tent in the backyard.

Visit an orchard and pick all-time favorite fruits–cherries. (Friday, M and A!)

Take out the sewing machine and finish those curtains for the office before summer guests arrive.

While the sewing machine is out, finally make a picnic quilt from the family jeans, saved for over a decade.

Go to the county fair (and spend a little time in my childhood hometown.)

Make stuffed and fried zucchini blossoms with the recipe learned from cute Italian nonna at Spannocchia (and enjoy every fried bite, without thinking of bathing suits.)

Read adventure books to Mr. T (another borrowed from Molly. Suggestions, anyone?)

Get better at pulling my own mozzarella, before the tomatoes come in.

Sketch with T. (Underway!)

Clear those sprawling rose shrubs and finally make a space for a hammock. When it’s hung, christen it by relaxing there with a tall pastis.

Get back in the habit of capturing it all through a lens.

What’s on your summer lists, my friends?

I’ve been rearranging the furniture here on the blog, so to speak. You may have noticed some new color in the sidebar in the form of photo buttons. I’m trying to organize some of my posts to make them more accessible. You can’t imagine how long it took to link all those posts–and to thumbnail and link the photos–so please mosey on over there and click around!

There are also some new photos hanging on the walls. I’ve finally posted myself up in the sidebar, presiding over the proceedings. And after more than two years, there’s an updated photo on the meet the family page. (I’ll also have to update that page with two kiddies’ birthdays later this week. Yep, two.)

Those photos are courtesy of a photo shoot we had here back in August. It all began at three o’clock one morning as I lay in bed, sleep eluding me, two-and-a-half weeks before H was due to head off to college. I found myself in a state of frenzy that only a mother sending a child off to college could understand. See, I’d been meaning to arrange for us to have a family portrait taken before H went off. We have never had a professional photo taken of all five of us and it felt important suddenly. I kept meaning to arrange it, but all sorts of other little things had distracted me, like buying a dorm mattress cover to protect from bedbugs, and getting the kid to the dentist before he left, and trying to convince him to be home for dinner with the family once in a blue moon. But I hadn’t gotten to scheduling that photo session, and I lay there in bed realizing that if I didn’t get it in now, we wouldn’t be able to schedule one until H was home in January. January!

I stumbled to the computer at 6:00 a.m. and wrote a rather emotional email to Mary McHenry, a photographer whose work I’d seen hanging in a local kids’ store.

Mary was kind enough to shoehorn in a photo session before H left. Not only that, but she made the session more fun than I ever thought taking photos could be. She was relaxed and calm, and she somehow got everyone to be themselves before the camera. She took shots of us eating a staged dinner together, and shots of the kids in their bedrooms. She even got photos of Chris and me, something we haven’t had done since our pre-kid days.

I snapped a photo of the photo-taking

It was an especially lovely few hours because it felt like a celebration of the five of us as a family, before H went on his way.

I thought I’d share Mary’s work here, in case you’re also in the San Francisco Bay Area, and looking for a photographer. Mary’s photos are both artistic and natural–and she has a keen talent for bringing out the personalities of her subjects. You can see some other images from our session on Mary’s blog, here and here. I hope you’ll check out her wonderful work.

Anyway, that’s enough of the blog-spiffing for the time being. Now I really ought to tackle Mr. T’s closet…

Back when I started this blog, I had no idea how much posting here would make me want to become a better photographer.

I knew almost nothing about photography when my kids were small. I just took whatever point-and-shoot we had at the time and pointed and shot. We didn’t even have a digital camera until Mr. T was three. I wish I could have captured their babyhoods and young childhoods better.

I’d only been blogging for a few months when I knew I needed a new camera. I wasn’t sure I was ready for an SLR, so we opted for a Panasonic DMC-FZ28, which falls somewhere between a point-and-shoot and an SLR. It was a great little camera; I learned a lot with it. I got myself off automatic mode, and learned to fiddle with aperture, exposure and white balance. (What’s that? You don’t know how to change your white balance? Find your camera manual and see if you can control it. It will improve your photos immediately. And to all those knitters who complain that their work isn’t photographing in the right shade: white balance is what you want to play with.)

It surprised me how much I liked taking photos. I’d assumed that the photos would be little more than garnishes for the writing on my blog–the writing was what really mattered to me–but the more photos I took, the more I cared about how the images looked. At the beginning of 2009, I made a resolution to take at least one photo each day, and I posted them to my flickr page, here.

I made it until the end of July, and then lost steam. I continued to take photos, but not every day. And I only posted to that flickr set occasionally.

It was only once I’d stopped doing it that I realized how much I’d learned from the exercise. How I’d learned to find interesting shots in the most mundane places. How approaching an image from a different angle brought it to life. How the right light can make all the difference in a photo.

Chris and I finally decided that I’d graduated to a camera that could do more. So as of my birthday, we’re the owners of our first digital SLR.

I have so much to learn. I’m reading Nikon D90 for Dummies with a highlighter in my hand. (And only a real dummy highlights a dummy book.) Meanwhile, I’m having a whole lot of fun.

Playing with wide-open apertures.

And shots of ordinary things.

Getting up real close.

And closer still.

Finding art in the everyday.

And the not-so-everyday.

And capturing shots that only last for a glimmer.

(This is one of my favorites so far. My friend Foothill Home Molly came to visit with her kids. Mr. T and I took them on a little tour of Berkeley: to the Lawrence Hall of Science, to the very delectable Ici for ice cream, to the Elmwood Library. Then we walked past Tail of the Yak, and I insisted that Molly and her daughter Avery take a quick peek. Tail of the Yak is an utterly unique little shop, filled with beautiful ribbons, Mexican carvings of saints, exquisite jewelry and all kinds of unexpected treasures. It is not the sort of shop for young boys, particularly young boys in the throes of playing zombies, so the three of us waited outside. But for one short second they became curious about what they were missing–and I snapped this photo. Then they got back to eating brains.)

I’m inaugurating my camera with a new photo-a-day project, begun on my birthday.  It’s a set on flickr that I’m calling the sunday night upload–because Sunday night is often when I’m uploading my photos for the week. I won’t kick myself if I miss a day here or there (I already have) but I’m going to try to make a year. And I’m going to try to make better photos.

So, hey, all you photo-heads out there! How about sharing a favorite photography tip with me? I’d love to hear it!

I’m of the belief that when your birthday rolls around, you should do whatever makes you happy.

If you want full-fat yogurt with rhubarb for breakfast, then you should have it.

(Of course, since it’s your birthday, you should probably have a very buttery, cinammon-sugary morning bun with your yogurt. But you might eat it too fast to snap a photo of it.)

While you get dressed, go ahead and hit replay on Conor Oberst’s song White Shoes three times. Because you find it mesmerizing, and because the advice is so good.

“Anything you wanna do

just tell me what you wanna do”

On your birthday, you really ought to wear your favorite shoes. Even if they’re a little quirky.

And when you get your hands on that new camera, your first real camera, you should spend the morning fiddling and snapping.

And you mustn’t forget the obligatory new-camera, facing-the-mirror shot.

When your daughter asks what kind of cake you’d like her to bake, don’t hold back. Ask for that coconut cake from David Lebovitz that you’ve been eyeing in that cookbook for years. Don’t worry over the fact that it requires three layers, homemade coconut custard, and a rum syrup. She can handle it. (And that link there–the one with the recipe that says you can use a store-bought sponge cake? Know she isn’t going for store-bought, no way. Not for her mama.)

She’ll make the whole thing, start to finish, including toasting the coconut. But hang tight! You don’t get to taste it until later.

Because you really ought to get out. What’s that? You’ve never been to the Conservatory of Flowers in Golden Gate Park? Why then, pack up the kids and go!

They’ll like it. Especially the carnivorous plants special exhibit.

When your husband asks where you want to go for dinner, choose tapas. And curse the restaurant for being too dark for photos, because you really wanted a shot of that glorious pile of patatas bravas with spicy tomato sauce and allioli. Order more dishes than is reasonable. It’s your birthday, after all.

Make sure to leave room for that cake. It will be one of the most delicious cakes you’ve ever tasted; you’ll be requesting it for years. (Just like Alice Waters’ father apparently did.)

At the end of the day, feel happy. Know that there’s still a little cake left for tomorrow. And a little time each day to do anything you wanna do.

I know I’ve written about this before, but I will never fail to be amazed at the friends I’ve made via blogging.

Several months back, I received a comment from Kelly Corrigan. Kelly Corrigan! Before that, when Kelly’s book The Middle Place came out, I’d inhaled it in three days–and I don’t do that very often. The book is Kelly’s story of getting breast cancer as a young mom, just as her beloved father is diagnosed with cancer. And if that sounds like a downer of a story, prepare to be surprised. Kelly is such a lively, witty writer that the book is as hilarious as it can be heartbreaking. (Click on that link to the book to read an excerpt and see for yourself.) And once you read it, you’ll never forget the charming character that is her father, George Corrigan. Trust me on that.

I haven’t yet read her new book, Lift, but I’m getting ready to inhale.

Anyway, Kelly wanted to know if she could use a few of my photos for a little project she was getting together. (I believe my response was Are you kidding? Of course!) She also wanted to know if I knew anyone who could help her make the video.

Do I know anyone who can make videos? Um. Yeah.

So I gave Kelly a link to my photostream, and H worked with her on the video. The kid learned a lot about working with a client, being willing to make changes, last minute deadlines. When Kelly was struggling to find enough photos, I sent links to the photostreams of my favorite mama photographers. I wasn’t surprised that she loved the work of kate and molly as much as I do. (Met those two via blogging too. Continually amazed, I tell you.)

Here’s the beautiful video essay that Kelly came up with. You might recognize a few familiar faces in there.

Fast Tube by Casper

Hope your Mother’s Day is just as heartwarming.

H and Mr. T worked on a film together last weekend. Only unlike the Coens, this pair has one brother who directs, and one who acts.

H has been filming Mr. T as long as he’s been playing around with movie cameras. A brother almost ten years younger makes good fodder for a teenage filmmaker. Especially when that younger brother is willing to do almost anything: being the candy-loving superhero Super T, a slightly insane Pirate Ninja Man, a very young James Bond. (H was inspired early on by Robert Rodriguez after reading Rebel Without a Crew. Have you seen Rodriguez’ short student film “Bedhead“, featuring his younger siblings?) 

This latest project was H’s first serious collaboration with his brother. The original idea for this film started brewing after H visited the odd local spot referred to as the Albany Bulb. The link takes you to an article from the San Francisco Chronicle, which begins:

“It’s a little spit of land jutting out into the San Francisco Bay from Albany on the eastern shore. Boasting a world-class view of the Golden Gate bridge and spectacular sunsets, the Bulb was originally a dump, covered over with dirt and then by vegetation. Deemed toxic, and neglected for many years, this unwanted trash heap was claimed by kindred spirits; fellow outcasts like homeless people and artists and finally, dog-walkers who could let their canine charges run wild.”

Everywhere on the The Bulb, you’ll find art. A giant driftwood dragon, an amphitheater made from junk, the heart-shaped “Castle” created from concrete and shopping cart parts. 

When H saw the Castle, a story began to collect, about a young boy who lives on an island, alone, making a home in the Castle and gazing across the water at the skyline of San Francisco. H saw it as a wordless film, without much explanatory narrative. A film that could capitalize on the wildly disparate images of the Bulb: nature and garbage, sunsets and art crafted from cast-offs. A place that somehow conveys both hopefulness and hopelessness.

And of course, H had the perfect actor in mind.

I was a little worried about that. It was one thing to have H and Mr. T collaborate on home-spun projects together. But this would be made with H’s film program. His instructor from the program would be there. Even more of a concern: the program had been gifted with some actual 16 mm film, and H’s project was to be shot on it. Because shooting on film is so different from shooting on digital, they would hire a cinematographer to work with H. And they couldn’t afford lots of extra shots; the film was too precious.

It would be one very long day’s shoot. And I had no idea how Mr. T would hold up.

Turns out, he’s a pro. A pro with a bit of attitude. He didn’t like rehearsing shots. H would tell him what he wanted, and when they filmed the digital rehearsal (to record the sound), Mr. T would do some half-hearted little pantomime. But as soon as the film camera rolled (and you can hear film rolling in a camera), T would nail just what H asked for. Usually on the first shot.

Of course, he had no lines, which helped.

Chris and I were there for the day, from 8:00 am to 5:30, to serve as child wranglers and food fetchers. But I didn’t have a lot to do. Other than a little bit of costume-fixing, a good deal of knitting, and a good deal of watching my boys.

A film shoot can be about as exciting as watching bread dough rise. It’s slow and tedious and often eye-crossingly boring. But what amazes me is that H, a kid I would never describe as patient, loves every minute of it. He has such a strong vision of what he wants for each shot, and he’s willing to do what it takes to get it.

On Thursday, H left for Los Angeles for a field trip with his film program. One of their destinations is FotoKem , the largest film processing lab on the west coast. They’ll have a tour, they’ll have their film processed. Then, according to H’s film project director, “we’ll have a chance to screen our 16mm film in an in-house theater specifically for watching ‘dailies’. They’ll be sitting in seats previously occupied by Scorsese, Coppola, etc.”

It’s an amazing opportunity.

When I asked H why shooting on film is such a big deal, he got up out of his chair and started pacing around the kitchen, he was so excited. “It’s just gonna look so good!” But shooting on film is nerve-wracking too: H won’t know how his footage came out until he sees it screened in that theater. I can’t wait to find out.

The lab will transfer the film to digital. Then when H gets home, he’ll begin editing.

I have no doubt that H will find work in the film industry, someday, somewhere. But Mr. T as an actor? Who knows? Waiting to see H’s film develop is nothing compared to waiting to see this wacky kid develop. If Mr. T does decide to continue acting, if one day some cheesy Barbara Walters special wants vintage footage, we’ll have lots of good stuff to offer. Footage lovingly filmed by his brother.

I haven’t written one of these atwitter posts in a while. Not that I haven’t been all atwitter–ask my husband about my tendency to yammer on about things. I just haven’t written about it. So, making up for lost posts…

our lavender is blooming.

60 plants worth, on our front hillside, right beside our beehive. Can you spot one of our girls in the photo? I wish I could insert smells into my posts, because this Provence lavender is eyes-rolling-back-in-your-head fragrant. I really ought to film the flurry of bees out there so you’d believe how many there are–one morning I counted more than twenty on a single plant. This new little colony is taking its time building up comb, though. I’d assumed that with the abundance of lavender, the comb production would pick up quickly, but that hasn’t been the case so far. A beekeeper on the Beemaster Forum explained that despite popular belief, a new colony won’t build comb to keep up with a nectar flow; it will build comb as needed to keep up with its population, and therefore might not be ready to take advantage of a nearby flow. So I just need to be patient, and let Queen Bee-atrice keep doing her thing. But one of these days, I hope there will be enough honey for me to steal a frame. I know exactly where I’ll put it:

a pot for my honey.

Isn’t it perfectly splendid? Wouldn’t Pooh love it? I found it at, of all places, Anthropologie. (Actually, Anthropologie seems to be a bee-loving company: for Earth Day, they had a neat little online honeybee promo, with some art that inspired my kids. If you click on the arrow near the bees in the promo, you’ll be led through a few pages of honeybee info.)

a new book.

If you’re a plant lover with a dark sense of humor, then you must get your hands on Wicked Plants: The Weed that Killed Lincoln’s Mother & Other Botanical Atrocities by Amy Stewart. It’s a compendium of–from the back cover–”plants that kill, maim, intoxicate, and otherwise offend.” Fun stuff! It’s also a beautiful little book, with faux-aged pages, old-fashioned etchings and creepy drawings.  I photographed it in my morning glory vine, the seeds of which are, apparently, capable of producing “an LSD-like trip if eaten in large quantity.” (I find the vine to be more violence-inducing, as I am constantly ripping at it whenever it strangles my more tender plants.)

healthy cookies.

No, it’s not an oxymoron. I saw the recipe for Nikki’s Healthy Cookies on 101 Cookbooks a while back, and finally got around to making them. Yum! They’re not so decadent as your typical chocolate chip cookie, but they’re surprisingly tasty given their list of healthy ingredients. We like them frozen, which makes their texture a little nicer. Whole Foods’ Dark Chocolate Chunks work especially well in the recipe. (And you’ll have extras to nibble on and call them antioxidants.)

a new knitting project.

Don’t tell my sweater coat! This is the short, simple number I mentioned in my letter. It’s actually my own bastardization of two patterns that I like: the Jane cardigan from Custom Knits, and the Lacy Skirt with Bows from Greetings from Knit Cafe. Details forthcoming on my Ravelry page for you knitting geeks. (Sorry about those Ravelry links, if you’re not a Raveler.)

Spanish design blogs.

Back in June, I posted this photo of Mr. T with some of our ollalieberries to the Flickr group 100 Things to Love About Summer (’cause if ripe ollallieberries aren’t one of the top 100 things to love about summer, I don’t know what is.) A month or so later, I got an email from Spain, asking for permission to use the photo. Which is how Mr. T ended up on a Spanish design blog, under the heading 100 Razones para Amar el Verano. Which tickles me in an it’s-a-small-world-after-all kind of way.

And even though the kid doesn’t look Spanish, he’s a full one-quarter. ¡Viva la familia Zaballos de Macotera, España!

fun in the sidebar.

I’m adding a place in the sidebar that links to exciting stuff I wander across on my internet ramblings. Mosey on over to the tab that says ever-changing list of wondrous links. I’ve posted a link to the Healthy Cookies recipe there, to keep it up for a while, and also links to some fantastic writing by Michael Chabon and Pico Iyer. That spot in the sidebar will give me a place to share little bits of wonder–even if I’m not keeping up with these atwitter posts.

So I’ll ask yet again, what has you all atwitter?

I’ve never joined a photo pool party. But, you may recall, one of my resolutions for 2009 is “improve my photography skills”. 

So when erin at house at hill road invited folks along on her yellow week, I jumped in.

Yellow has never been a favorite color of mine. I don’t own a single piece of yellow clothing–I look terrible in it. So I was surprised, when I walked around our house hunting for yellow, to discover it everywhere.

Almost every room in our house has yellow or gold as an accent color–it seems we use it the way some people use red. And it isn’t just in the background. We put a big hug of honey-colored tile in our kitchen; the entire exterior of our house is stuccoed in yellow. It’s a great foil for foliage.

So maybe I like yellow more than I realized. There’s nothing like it for adding a little sunlight. (But I’m still not gonna wear it.)

I have a lot to learn about photography, but jumping in the pool has been fun. Thanks for inviting us for a dip, Erin!