I’ve been pretty  busy the past few weeks, but I’m looking forward to a summer filled with new photo projects, freelancing opportunities, and some other big changes. Yesterday I had the opportunity to capture a sweet baby boy’s first day in the world. We’ll be doing more newborn portraits sometime next week. I’m filled with ideas and excitement and picked up a few supplies at Hobby Lobby today. Stay tuned for the images in the next few weeks.

In the meantime, I’m going to share some shots of the critters I took about a month ago when my favorite tree was in bloom. I’d wanted to get some shots of it last year, but I just couldn’t seem to find the time. But lately I’ve been trying really hard to stay in the moment and document as much as I possibly can with my camera. So I woke up early one morning and got some shots of Pi Face sitting under the little crooked tree in all of its pink-petaled glory. And a few days later, as I was sitting on the screened-in porch slogging my way through a paper when I noticed several butterflies landing among the tree’s branches. I quickly pulled out my camera and got a few more shots of the butterflies, as well as Pixel and Toki lounging about on the porch.

So once again, stay tuned and be sure to stop by for new images and updates!

But no such message came. My phone never buzzed. Thankfully, we got out of class early. I sat in my car and searched for any newspaper articles about barn fires in Fox Lake. I quickly gave up and called Derek. I wanted to get on the road. It was an hour-and-a-half drive from DeKalb. I knew I wouldn’t be able to make it home before dark, but I wanted to drive by Bay Road and make sure everything was okay.

Derek didn’t know anything. An old friend whose sister used to board at Black Tie during summers off from college had called him to make sure my horse was all right. He did not know that Crete passed away almost three years ago. “He said that hopefully you don’t know any of the horses there,” Derek said. “But I do,” I burst out. And that’s when the tears began to fall freely. I’d tried to keep them in all throughout class, telling myself I was being ridiculous. I didn’t board there anymore. Crete was long gone and did not have to experience the horrors of a barn fire. The barn was no longer a part of my everyday life. Why was I feeling such a sense of panic? Why did my heart hurt so badly?

But the barn was a huge part of my life. For nearly ten years, I spent at least two hours at that barn every single day. It was the source of chagrin, jubilation, pride and peace. There were many a day I came home, perplexed and angry about the petty barn gossip. However, on other days, that same petty gossip was hugely entertaining and delightful. There were days when I felt like Crete would never heal from his multiple maladies or he would never become a decent, rideable horse. There were days when we made a breakthrough. In the beginning, when he was rideable, a breakthrough was making it twice around the arena on the right diagonal without a single rearing episode. Later, during his battle with White Line Disease, a breakthrough was hobbling twice around the arena without a single break during his long, painful hand-walking sessions. And despite his hot temper and health problems, that horse made me so proud. He was one of the most intelligent creatures I’d ever met, filled with personality. And being with him—just being in that barn—brought me peace. Whether I was suffering the pain of rejection, a broken heart or stress from work and school, coming to the barn was like coming to a private oasis. Sitting crouched in his stall, watching him nose around in the shavings for hay, running my hands over the valleys and peaks of his broad chestnut head and listening to quiet calm of horses breathing could always make me feel better. No matter what.

And now the physical representation of thousands of precious memories was burning to the ground as I drove along Route 23. I sobbed. I sobbed even harder when I thought of the horses. I almost had to pull off the road when my jumbled thoughts turned to one horse in particular: Shockwave.

Shockwave was once a champion Arabian stud. But eventually age and various health problems ended his lucrative showing career and kept him from siring more generations of stunning, winning foals. His out-of-state-owners kept him at Black Tie. They rarely visited him and he was largely ignored by the other boarders. Most people (wisely) keep their distance from stud horses, as they can be a little unpredictable and aggressive. And Shockwave was definitely surly and obstinate. But my mother and I loved him for those qualities and we soon found ourselves sharing Crete’s nightly treats with him. In the summers, we checked his water buckets and made sure they were full. In the winter, we checked his blanket and made sure all of the buckles were safely secured. When his mane became knotted and his coat too muddy, we took his abandoned brushes and groomed him until he shone.

When Crete passed away, my mother and I struggled with whether or not to continue to visit Shockwave. But the fact of the matter was, no matter how much we loved and cared for him, he was not our horse. What if his owners moved him away? What if his health took a deeper turn for the worse? We could not help those things and decided it would be much too frustrating and disheartening to suffer through them—especially after experiencing the loss of Crete. We also worried that there would be repercussions if we continued to sporadically visit Shockwave. If we didn’t show up to shower him with treats every single night, would he become depressed? Maybe it was better to make a clean break. And—perhaps most selfishly—we just needed a break. Our wounds were too fresh, our hearts were too broken and we simply could not fathom going back to the barn without having Crete there.

Years passed and not a week has passed that I haven’t thought about Shockwave and experienced a flood of crippling, gut-wrenching guilt. Did we do the right thing to just stop visiting him? Did he think of us and wonder where we went, why we didn’t continue to see him? Sick and heavy-hearted, I’d shove the painful thoughts out of my mind and focus on something else. And now, I realized, driving home in the increasing twilight on Wednesday night, that it was too late to ever reconcile that worry and guilt. My heart plummeted to my stomach and I hurriedly wiped the hot tears from my eyes.

I called my mom and she cried with me. Then she said that she was going to take a trip over there to see if she could do anything. I continued my trek toward Fox Lake. It felt like the longest drive ever. When I got to Bay Road, it was, of course, blocked off. I lied to the police officer and said I had to pick up a friend in the neighborhood right across the street from the barn. I acted shocked that my friend would not have told me about all of the commotion. The officer hesitantly let me through, but as I crept closer to the barn, saw the smoke and the eerie, flashing glow of emergency vehicles’ lights, I lost my nerve. I turned down the first street I could and headed home.

I was up reading newspaper articles about the fire, marveling at the bravery exhibited by so many non-horse-owning good Samaritans when my mother called around 11:15. She and my aunt had spent the night wallowing in the surrounding bog, looking for escaped horses in the dark. I immediately felt guilty for not being there, not lending a helping hand. I felt like a heartless, selfish wretch for turning on my heels and high-tailing it back home at the mere sight of some smoke. “It’s fine, Kate,” my mother said. “There wasn’t a whole lot you could do anyway. We didn’t do much honestly. We just needed to be there.” The next day my mom and aunt would come to find out that they’d been chasing down deer. They were following the lead of a helicopter and rescuers were scanning the surrounding areas with a body heat sensor from the air. They’d picked up on the warm silhouettes of deer bounding and crashing through the trees and swampland. Sadly, the three horses that were supposedly missing were found among the smoldering rubble on Thursday.

I woke up in a fog on Thursday and was slow to get ready for work. I almost felt hung over, but I knew that wasn’t possible. As I filled my water bottle, passed out goodbye treats to the cats and herded Pi into the car, I half-wondered if I was getting sick. But I didn’t feel bad in a physical sense. Sure, my bones were slightly achy from a night of little sleep, but mostly I just felt empty. And then I realized that I was experiencing loss. It had been so long since I suffered through the death of someone that I’d almost blissfully forgotten what it felt like. But this was it. I was experiencing loss and I was grieving. I’d lost my second home in that fire. I’d lost good friends in that fire. And as badly as I felt, I could only imagine what the horse owners were experiencing. I cried all the way to work, my heart raw with their loss.

On Friday, Derek, another aunt and I went to see the barn. Upon entering the parking lot and seeing the singed roof, melted and crumpled in on itself, my eyes filled with tears. But I regained some composure after talking to the barn owner. Midge had lost all three of her horses and more years of memories than I could imagine. Midge’s strength helped lessen my grief. It was clear that she and the other horse owners would get through this. Would they be scarred? Of course. Would they ever be entirely whole? Most probably not. But eventually—like all tragedies—the pain would subside. It would always be there, but it would be bearable.

I walked around the barn, marveling at the items that managed to make it through—salt block holders were in perfect condition, feed bins and stall mats were only half-melted and clear of ashes. Every once in a while, a horrific smell or the glimpse of something familiar—Fancy’s stall door, the charred remains of the pop machine in the front hallway—would cause an onslaught of tears. But for the most part, it was therapeutic.

We stopped to bid our farewells to Midge. “I have to write a thank you letter and put it in the newspaper,” she said to us. “I’m just in awe. Just in awe. You should have seen the amount of people that came out to help. Yesterday—when we still thought those three horses were alive—you should have seen the people that showed up to go out and look for them in that muck. There had to have been twenty people here, all lined up and ready to go first thing in the morning. And the people that stopped during the fire, most of them didn’t even own horses. They just wanted to help—” Midge’s voice caught and she had to stop. After a brief pause, she said, “I don’t know how I’ll ever repay them. A letter isn’t enough, but at least they’ll know in a small way how much it was appreciated.”

And I suppose if there is anything to be taken away from any of this nightmare, it’s how important it is to stop and offer your support. Don’t ever hesitate to offer up some kind words or a caring gesture to someone who is grieving. Even if you are afraid you will sound trite, even if you don’t think your gesture grand enough, it will indeed mean the world to that person. And also, as trite as this sounds, don’t take anything for granted. And take pictures. Lots and lots of pictures. Because when tragedy strikes and your entire world changes before your very eyes, you’ll never know how much you’ll wish for some more documentation of the things you love. I’m sorry to say—in all my days spent at that barn with a camera—I don’t have a single image of Shockwave. And while I’ll always see him as clear as day in my mind’s eye, a photograph would sure be nice to have. So live every day to the fullest, lend a helping hand when you can, and take lots of pictures. They don’t have to be award-winners or a breathtaking piece of art—just something to look back on and smile. Because in the end, being able to look back and smile is all that matters.

I don’t know what’s gotten into the typically-cynical me. While I’ll never pass up a box of candy, I’m usually not that big of a Valentine’s Day person. But today, I’m feeling a little festive, I suppose. And while I know it’s a Hallmark holiday aimed at increasing consumerism and all that jazz, I don’t see anything wrong with expressing love to those that mean something to you. Of course you should do that each and every day, but I guess today I don’t see anything wrong in going a little bit above and beyond…And anyway, Valentine’s Day is on a Tuesday this year, and Tuesdays could always use to be spiced up a little.

In any case, here’s hoping you have an enjoyable time with ALL your Valentines…two-legged and four-legged alike. And just to help you get in the spirit, here’s a picture of my mom’s dog Phinney and my aunt’s dog Roo. They’re both Chihuahuas and probably the most adorable things ever. I figured this image was fitting for Valentine’s Day.

I mainly focused on a charming little cafe a few feet away from the train station. I went out early in the morning, ventured around, took some pictures and then hung out at the cafe until I could take the train back home. It’s been a long time since I made the commute toward Chicago. And while the hustle and bustle of the morning train ride was refreshing, I think it’s safe to say I’m glad I no longer have to do it every day.

The article with my pictures ran back in June, but as you are all well aware, I haven’t been the timeliest in getting my work up here on the ol’ blog-a-roo. So here’s a couple of PDFs with the article…Click on the links to read the whole article.  And if you ever find yourself in Jefferson Park, be sure to stop in and check out Cafe Soroni.

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After her brother’s wedding, Erin invited me along to shoot another late October wedding with her. It was a blast. I also had the pleasure to shoot my dear friend Amanda and her bridesmaids before her wedding in September. (You may remember Amanda from the engagement session I shot last year.) Amanda is a second-generation hairstylist who works at her mother’s salon so that’s where all the ladies got ready. It was a super intimate, comfortable setting and a lot of fun to shoot.

Here’s a hodgepodge of images…hope you enjoy them!

So, without further ado…let me dive right in and play catch up!

The first shoot I’ll share with you is with the “L” family. Their son, Aiden was a ball full of energy, but one of the sweetest little guys I’ve ever met. It’s the first time a client has invited me out after the shoot! Yes, Aiden asked if I wanted to join his family over at his aunt’s house to celebrate a family member’s recent birthday with cake and ice cream. Of course, I had to decline, but it was pretty much the cutest thing ever.

The next session I’ll share is Stephanie’s senior shoot. I’m a friend of Stephanie’s sister and she tagged along for the shoot. Stephanie was a little nervous at first (which I can’t really blame her, I react horribly when I have a camera put in front of my face), but she soon loosened up and we were all cracking up every two seconds.

And last but not least, here’s lil’ Miss Zoey. You might remember her newborn pictures from last January! We took these pictures early October (actually I had back-to-back sessions with Stephanie in the morning and Zoey in the late afternoon) so Zoey was nine months old and full of smiles and energy. She’s going to be a big sister this summer and I am sooo excited and honored for the opportunity to photograph them as they grow.

It’s going to be a fairly short blog entry today. I’m slipping one in among the hustle and bustle of holiday preparations. But stay tuned because I have plenty of catching up to do in the next few weeks. I have quite a few sessions I’m really looking forward to sharing with all of you!

In the meantime, I want to share a little “howl” iday lovin’ from my critters. We hope the next couple of days are safe and filled with fun, family and cheer!

]]> http://graciebelle.com/2011/12/24/merry-christmas/feed/ 0 graciebellephotography Christmas Card http://graciebelle.com/2011/08/23/summer-fun-time-shoot/ http://graciebelle.com/2011/08/23/summer-fun-time-shoot/#comments Tue, 23 Aug 2011 04:32:32 +0000 graciebellephotography http://graciebelle.com/?p=516 ]]> Here are a few images from the shoot with makeup artist Molly Krause. We both decided we wanted to have some fun with this shoot and do something a little different from the norm. Molly was looking forward to playing around and creating a look totally different from what she typically does with her brides and I thought it’d be a good idea to mess around with my studio lighting, as I’m generally much more comfortable shooting in natural light. So we chose a few bright tones for a color scheme, came up with the premise of old fashioned sundae cups and ice cream and went at it.

I still wanted to squeeze in some outside shots, as I wasn’t totally ready to zip out of my comfort zone. For the outdoor shots, we kept the make up a little more simple. The entire time I was shooting, I was so taken with all of the girls’ beautiful eyes and how much they popped against the green grass and overcast skies. I was sooo excited to get working on those shots.

After being chased down by mosquitoes (they’re really vicious this year…they’re one part of summer I’m anxious to leave behind), we ventured inside to play around with the studio lights. And…uh…let’s just say we had some technical difficulties. Erm. Still, we made do with what we had and the girls were totally game for it. I had such a lovely time working with these ladies! It’s no wonder we’re all already talking about our next collaboration.

Here’s a few of the images…For more, as always, check out my Facebook page.