To Haiti With Love

My fabulous friend, Rene wanted to do a "little something" for Haiti. Her little something turned into a massive art auction, with beautiful (and practical) art donated by artists all across North America.

Go - check it out. There's everything from children's clothing to photography to mentoring to a week in Teluride, Colorado.

http://tohaitiwithlove.squarespace.com/

Happy Holidays

Happy Holidays from me and mine to you and yours.

xxR

Thanks to Lana and Amy for taking the pictures of us.

Log Houses

As you may have guessed, I'm a crunchy kind of girl. I was going to have my basement insulated using spray insulation. When I'm editing pictures in the winter, its often 10 C in my office - way too cold. I really want to be warm, but I started freaking out about off-gassing and the use of petrochemicals in my basement.

I did a little googling and found this product. Made in Alberta and everything. Whoo hooo!

I immediately emailed my friend Karin who's husband operates Angels Log Homes. Of course, they already use wool insulation in their construction of log houses.

I am so planning for the day when I can build one of these. They're so pretty. And warm!

(And if you need awesome green-scaping in your garden, drop me a line. Karin is my go-to girl on anything garden related. I can hook you up.)

The Zebra and the Butterfly

We went to the Kaleido Festival this weekend. If you're the least bit interested in art - of any kind - dance, participatory theatre, hoola hooping - mark in on your calenders for the last weekend in September next year.

These are the two acts I wanted to see.

Adrien La Chance

I'm not sure what this act was called (I can find out if you want to know though - it was very cool - and how I got my kids out of the house - "lets go see the Spiderman people.")

And, my boys. Isaac sat quietly through his, while Gabriel bossed the face painter around the whole time. We had a little chat about allowing people to do their jobs.

My dear friends

A year and a half ago, I photographed Avelina. Not only do I have the greatest job, working at something I love doing, but through my job, I've met the most wonderful people. Trish, Avelina's mom has become one of my best friends. Our children hang out regularly, love each other like siblings (that includes love and a few fights) and Isadora calls me Mama Rebecca. (Actually, let me amend that. She says Rebecca like a proper English girl. There's an R on the end too - Rebeccer).

My job rocks - as do my friends.

Rich's parents have been visiting from England, and Trish and Richard asked me to come and take some photos of their family.

Here are Percy, Jenny, Richard, Avelina and Isadora.

Isadora getting ready for their pictures.

A couple of the family.

Trish and Richard are some of the best parents I know.

Dear, sweet Avi.

Isadora and Daddy.

Jenny looking on while Rich and Isadora play.

Avi peeking from behind Trish's legs.

Hanging out with Grandma and Grandpa.

Discovering a bird's nest in the park.

I love this family portrait.

And, a little fierceness from Isadora about the sale of Epcor.

Love you guys!

A new baby for our family

Introducing Kaylee!

Philippa and Jon had their first baby - how cute is she!?!?! Nice work guys.

Gabe was very excited to have his first cousin. The boys are so gentle with babies.

They're not so gentle with each other though. Kaylee looks like she's asking her mama "what the heck is going on?!" You'll get used to them.

I love how babies always look to their mamas. They can't see much yet, but that's where their eyes always go.

Welcome to our family baby girl!

Stories from the farm

After our photography session with Carmalee and family in Camrose, we stopped by my parent's farm for a supper picnic.

Gabe and Isaac were hanging out with Nana Mae


My dad and I chatted on the lawn. The lilacs were in full bloom and standing beside them, we could hear the entire tree buzzing. I'd been worried about the bees, but seeing the masses of different types of bees on the tree (about 3 bees per flower head) made me relax a little.

I'm no macro photographer (that's a skill - and a lens requirement - that I need to work on), but I wanted to share these pictures. There's a couple different types of bees in there, including a ginger one, with no black. If you look closely, you can see the ball of pollen they're carrying on their legs.

This is a story about our brave, brave Odie, who was upgraded to heroic status last spring. He's about 12 years old and his job is to guard the sheep (after the experiement with Duddly the Donkey failed. Instead of guarding the sheep, Duddly would chase them and bite them, leaving tufts of wool all over the pasture - he is now relegated to the back pasture with the cows who can fight back when he gets miserable with them).

Odie patrols the sheep at night, keeping them safe from coyotes. One morning, my father found 5 dead coyotes.

Despite his super-toughness in guarding, he is the sweetest dog. During the day he lazes around on the porch and will roll over for anyone willing to scratch his tummy, but other than that refuses to be groomed.

Last spring, my dad realised he hadn't seen Odie for a day or two (a day is not unusual, as Odie might go off on patrol for a bit). He later caught sight of Odie in a field lying still and acting a bit odd. He didn't think much of it, until another half day later, when Odie still hadn't returned to the yard. He knew something was wrong, and took the wheelbarrow and gun out to the field. Odie was lying in the field, covered in blood, with two sets of huge claw marks in his backside, like he'd been jumped by a cougar or a bear (I had no idea they were around in Central Alberta, but apparently they are.) Knowing how long Odie had been out there, and his age, my dad knew there was not a great chance of Odie surviving. He lifted the gun and looked in Odie's eyes and was brought up short. He said it was if Odie was saying to him you are not going to shoot me.

Somehow he managed to get Odie (who must weigh nearly 200 lbs) into the wheelbarrow and got him back to the farm. Now, Odie is a dog who walks around with dagos on his butt, permanently. He refuses to be groomed, and when a dog who is 200lbs and can kill 5 coyotes in an evening growls at you, you skip the grooming.

Back at the farm, my dad spent the next 4 hours shaving Odie's back, picking magots out, and injecting penicillin into each claw mark, some of which were as deep as his bones. Odie never whined or growled or whimpered. He just let my dad heal him. Then my dad tried to shave the dagos. And Odie growled.

That was last year, and Odie is still going strong.

(This story always makes me weepy, at Odie's braveness, his will to survive and the bond my dad's dogs have with him - they know their man. For my readers who haven't been around farming, it might seem a cruel, that my dad had made the descision to put Odie down, but on a farm, with hundreds (altogether) of animals, you have to make the call as to who gets to go to the vet, and who doesn't, taking into account their ages and the work they do. And my dad's a soft-hearted man. I remember him making my mom take off the chicken's heads, because he gets so sentimental about the animals.)

Here is our brave, brave Odie.

After our picnic, the neighbours let my dad know the calves were out on the road. Its so dry, the electic fence doesn't work and the calves are hungry for grass, and push right through the fence. My dad called Scott, (his border collie), we went out in the truck, and Scott rounded up the calves and chased them back into the pasture.

Then back to the farm, looking for the fencing supplies, and back out to the feild (this is at 9:30 at night). Gabriel was quite thrilled to be helping his Grampy fix the fence.

Isaac supervising.

And Gabe my litter collector. He's quite passionate about litter, and even told some "big" kids (i.e. teenagers) in the park to stop littering.

This was one of those magical Alberta summer evenings. Light until nearly midnight, so dry there are no mosquitos and a mellow evening hanging out with family.

Look Mama, I'm a Man

Waaaaaaa. My baby boy is growing up. That's good right? That's what they are supposed to do. But, I'm all nostalgic and teary too.

We went to the barber. That's the kind of thing we do for family days. Weird, I know.

Here are Gabe and Isaac checking out Mike as he's getting his hair cut.

And my dear, wee baby boy decided he did in fact want a hair cut too. In fact, he look thrilled out of his mind at the prospect.

I love, love this picture of Isaac with his dad.

Ahhhh. There it goes. I want to cry. Naif kept asking me if I wanted to save "this piece". I saved the whole damn lot.

Although Isaac looks really solemn in this picture, he's actually really happy. When he's pleased about something, he gets a really serious look on his face, and you have to watch closely for the smile to shine through.

In this picture, he couldn't stop checking himself out in the mirror long enough to look at me. He's so stinking CUTE! He's got a gorgeous head under all that hair, and now he looks like he's actually related to his father instead of being spawned wholly from my loins :). Actually, one of the first things I noticed about him after he was born was his hair. He's got exactly the same cowlicks (about 3 of them) as his dad. It almost looks like someone scalped Mike and transplanted it onto Isaac.

Also in this picture, Gabe was dancing up and down demanding that he also have his hair cut. Lucky for me, there were three customers waiting behind us. I now have three weeks to convince him that wearing braids and twirling his hair at night are essential to his mental health. Or not. In the end, I do actually let my kids make up their own minds.

Isaac's starting to look slightly less-selfconsiously pleased.

Calling home to tell me he's a man now and all grown up.

So grown up, he can go to the pub if he pleases.

Sit at the bar, and order a drink.

Love this picture (look above his head). When I was little, I lived in England, and we used to go to the pub with my Aunty and Uncle, Granny and Grampy and my dad. I remember sitting up at the bar and ordering a gin and tonic. I used to think maybe they gave me just tonic water with lime, but I'm wondering now if they actually gave me the gin. What better way to mellow out your kids :)

Long hair hippie kids

I get lots of comments about Gabe's hair. Its beautiful, and I am very attached to it, but we also get lots of comments about him looking like a girl. He's started getting really chatty with strangers and starts out with This is my brother Isaac, and I'm Gabe and we're both boys here. No girls. Except my mom. She's a girl (and sometimes they get an anatomy lesson too, while I turn slightly red). I have long hair and I'm a boy.

Apparently, I come by my refusal to cut his hair honestly. This is my dad, who also had long hair until he was 4. He and my mom just returned from England, where he took this picture of himself as a boy.

And no, that doesn't mean I plan to cut Gabe's hair now that he's 4 :), just in case you were wondering. I've told Gabe he can get his hair cut when he's ready. He said he'll do it when he's a man like his Papa.

Isaac on the other hand wants to get his hair cut like his dad's. I'm so sad. We're going for a field trip to the barber tomorrow. I don't know that he will actually follow through, but if he does, I might cry a little, or a lot.