Awesome!

I just bought plane tickets to shoot in Connecticut in October. I have weddings in Utah and Florida in August and another wedding in Boise in October. My kids are healthy. My husband is hot. My flowers are beautiful. I get to wear sun dresses all summer. Life is good.

Heart Ache

For some reason I have been thinking of my little Colin a lot lately. Maybe it is because he would be three soon. Maybe it is because my heart aches for others that I know that are truely suffering but that I am powerless to help. Sometimes I get a cold dose of reality, that life, in general, is a difficult and sometimes cruel thing. But, as painful as those moments are, they make my words softer and my kisses sweeter and my actions kinder. For any one who has happened on this that has felt grief they way I have at losing my tiny son, somehow there is hope and healing. I can't say how, or how long. Those were my first questions to anyone who could relate. How do you stop hurting? How long will I feel like my chest hurts so badly that I can't breath? Even now I don't have answers but I know that somehow I have walked away from this stronger than before. Here is something I wrote and posted a long time ago. I wrote it after looking at my C-section scar that is daily reminder of my little boy I didn't get to bring home.  This is for my amazing younger sister who has been battleing a cancerous brain tumor for pretty much her whole life.

Scars
My finger traces across my skin
Pale lines where a wound has been
Each has a story of some sort of length
Marks of my weakness and of my strength

We start as a canvas, perfect and new
And life paints our portraits with lines and with hues
Our stories are etched in a series of marks
Seemingly subtle and jaggedly stark
Each mark was gained with some kind of trial
Tribute to sacrifice and of survival
The angry lines fade from across my skin
A constant reminder of changes within
My body and face, unique in design
Won’t follow the beauty the world defines
The wrinkles and scars that TV abhors
Are proof of my love for those I adore
When my body is old and my portrait is done
My scars tell the tale of fights I have won
Each tells a story of some kind of length
Not marks of my weakness, but proof of my strength


By Jaymie Quigley
Written 10-18-09 For my sister Lindsay

Try, Try, again

I was so good at blogging before I started my buisness and got on Facebook. I hardly have time to check anyone elses blog and any free time I have goes to keeping up my photography blog. But, I want to keep these posts to look back at (and possibly print on some ambitious day) so I really, really want to do better at this. With that said, I have about 3 free minutes to post some pictures from our family reunion over the fourth of July.  LONG LIVE CAMP SMOKEY!!!