When the Heart Rules the Page
It’s been a minute since I’ve written. Honestly, I haven’t felt inspired—and I’ve decided I won’t write just to write. I don’t want to perform on the page. Words need to come from a real place. They have weight. They linger. And sometimes, they come back around in ways you never expected. So, today, I’m letting my heart take over.
This morning felt different. I woke up and noticed a second bloom on my orchid plant. It’s the first orchid that’s ever bloomed in my care, which feels special. The little petals are deep purple and a creamy golden yellow. In my little world, colors speak. Deep purple is mystery, spirit, imagination. Creamy yellow feels abundant, like things are not only enough—they’re more than enough. That little bloom felt like a whisper: You’re growing, too.
Last week, the BILD Expo was in NYC. I couldn’t make it in person, but B&H Photo livestreamed the main stage—and wow, I’m so grateful they did. Listening to seasoned photographers share their stories over those two days stirred something in me. By the end of it, all I wanted was to hold my film camera again. I wanted black-and-white film in my hands.
B&H had some Expo deals, and I purchased a Holga and Kodak 400 TX black and white film. This summer, I’ve promised myself: try new things. So this morning, instead of tackling the yard and garden, my heart nudged me out the door—camera in hand—to the streets of Easton. I’ve always loved the town. Something about it just feels good.
I parked near Spring Street and started walking, clicking the shutter every few steps. It was in order to slow down. A few blocks in, I crossed paths with a young family who recommended that I check out the farmers’ market at Two Rivers Trailway. Naturally, I had to learn why.
That’s how I ended up at Mia & Maddie’s Bakery. Maddie caught me about to shoot a photo of her—with my lens cap still on. Lol! One of those classic beginner moments. Have you ever gone out to take pictures, full of excitement, and completely forgotten to take the cap off?!
And then there was Bruno, a three-year-old dachshund with a big personality and even bigger dreams (okay, he’s not really running for mayor, but he could be). Eventually I wandered through a booth from Tucker’s Pond, where they had weird and wonderful carnivorous plants—Sarracenia, Sundews, even a Venus Flytrap. Anyone remember The Little House of Horrors?
The first photo on my Holga? Mini orchids. After I clicked the shutter, I spoke aloud to the camera: This is the start of something new. And I meant it. Walking the streets with film felt like home, it brought me back to high school when I fell in love with black-and-white photography. I wanted to be Ansel Adams back then. Coming from a small town, it was my teenage dream of grandeur, to have a life that matters to others.
Today felt like that dream in motion. Slow. Intentional. No schedule, no pressure—just presence.
Afterward, I dropped my film off at Dan’s Camera City and chatted with Jimmy for a bit. And you know what? Leaving my roll of film for processing was liberating. I left feeling heard. Seen. Like I mattered.
And maybe that’s the real reason I picked up the film camera again.
