When I was young, around 4th grade, I had a “friend” who was not really a friend.  Well, one day she was my friend and the next day she wasn’t.  One day she was nice to me and the next day she was absolutely cruel.  One day we were making plans to marry brothers and […]

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  • doug s. - October 2, 2014 - 5:34 pm

    Thank you Summer for sharing, wow! Today my life is enriched listening to you.ReplyCancel

    • Summer Kellogg - October 2, 2014 - 6:33 pm

      . . . and you returned the favor.

      Thank you for enriching my life, Doug. ReplyCancel

We have guests visiting from out of state this weekend.  Two of the most laid-back, chill, go-with-the-flow people and their three little ones.  I met Rachael in grad school and despite the miles that separate us, we always meet up during this time of year and pick up as if no time has passed. Rachael […]

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  • Joy Jordan - September 24, 2014 - 8:46 pm

    you are a mom who loves and explores. you are a mom who, even when documenting, lives with an open heart. you are the best kind of mom. all we ever have to do is "just show up." love and hugs to you, summer!ReplyCancel

    • Summer Kellogg - October 2, 2014 - 1:16 am

      Joy, my words can never express how thankful our paths have crossed. . . even if only our virtual paths.

      Love and hugs back to you. . . ReplyCancel

I first met him under the red-hued light of a tiny Pizza Hut restaurant.  (Pizzeria is probably a better term?) I remember walking up to the table, heart beating a mile a minute, hoping I might make a decent first impression.  When I got to the table, he was sitting with one of his sons […]

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  • CharisFaith - September 17, 2014 - 11:21 pm

    Once again your words made me cry, in a good way! Happy Birthday to your FIL, Kim, Gramps! Happy Birthday!ReplyCancel

  • Katie - September 18, 2014 - 12:34 pm

    I remember the first time I met my soon-to-be FIL. I was at a mall in Washington, DC where I was working as a nanny waaaay back in 1988. I looked up and saw David with this older man who I gathered to be his dad from the pix I'd seen in the past. Well, I was so terrified that they'd see me, that I ducked down behind a row of shirts and hid till I was sure they'd walked past the store. Turns out, my FIL has become one of my best friends—and yes, he knows how I like my coffee, too: as strong and as black as you can make it. Happy Birthday, Summer's FIL! : )ReplyCancel

    • Summer Kellogg - September 24, 2014 - 11:26 am

      Oh, Katie, that is a great story! And how cool that you and your FIL are such great friends. We are blessed women, indeed. ReplyCancel

Every now and then it happens.  I don’t plan it, really.  Without warning, it just, well, it happens.  You know, kind of like when you’re driving and your mind wanders to other places and other things and suddenly your pulling into your destination and you find yourself confused?  It’s almost as if you were transported […]

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  • Barbara Allen - September 12, 2014 - 1:02 pm

    Summer well said and I can relate to each precious word – and I'm sure that you see a little bit of her in each of your children.ReplyCancel

  • M - September 12, 2014 - 1:07 pm

    This is a beautiful post. I lost my Mom when I was 18. Needless to say I understand that longing to know what would she do or say. I graduated college, fell in love, got married, bought my first apartment, had two children, then fell in love again (with photography this time) and took care of her husband (my Dad) right up until his last breath. It has been well over 20 years since I heard her voice and I too stop to remember what she sounded like. Sadly, I'm not sure if the voice I hear is even right. Thank you for your beautiful post … it really hit home…..I will always be a fan of your work and your words……ReplyCancel

    • Summer Kellogg - September 12, 2014 - 3:17 pm

      I am so, so sorry for your loss. For the memories that were never made, the things that should have been, could have been. Thank you for getting it and for understanding. I always appreciate when I see an "M" pop up–thank you for walking this journey. . . ReplyCancel

  • Katy - September 12, 2014 - 1:11 pm

    Oh Summer, tears after that post. I wish she were here too! She would be so proud. Hugs my friend…ReplyCancel

  • Ky | TwoPretzels - September 12, 2014 - 2:47 pm

    It's funny, I started copying the lines that you wrote that resonated with me… one after another… and then another. And then I realized I copied the majority of this post.

    You'd talk about nothing which was something that was everything. Oh Summer, AMEN.

    It's so true. I don't know yet how to deal with that void.

    I've felt that there's Kylee Before and there's Kylee AFTER. I see that it's similar in your life, too: There's Summer Before and there's Summer After.

    These are just words… but your strength to turn each day into a moment where preciousness and life and the little things are celebrated has been so inspiring to me. I know we all have bad days; but it's so obvious, so clear, that you've allowed the beauty to come from the ashes.

    I have no doubt that your Mom would be in **awe** of you. Of how you've grown. And I believe in my heart that you wouldn't even have to explain how you've changed, how you play in creeks now… she's been watching. She's seen it. And she loves it and you. And Charlie. And Chanelle. And Meadow, too.

    I'm babbling.

    I wish you could her her voice one more time. I wish you could have one more conversation about nothing and anything and everything. I wish she could come over for dinner. I'm so sorry.

    I love you. I'm proud of you.ReplyCancel

    • Summer Kellogg - September 12, 2014 - 3:21 pm

      Oh Kylee. How I have thought of you this week. Prayed for you. Celebrated as you walked through it so bravely.

      Thank you for these words and for being such a support through this journey.

      I'm so sorry that you understand so well. . . ReplyCancel

  • Anonymous - September 12, 2014 - 3:23 pm

    Friend – I wish she could see, too. I wish she could be there for you to call and for you to talk about nothing that was something that was everything. I know for sure that she couldn't have described it better herself. I too wish she were here. I know she'd admire and brag about the mother and friend and photographer and individual. I'm so sorry she's not here, Sumo. I am.
    Love, Miss ReplyCancel

  • Katie - September 12, 2014 - 10:10 pm

    Maybe the physical, "i-can-touch-you-you-can-touch-me" part of your momma isn't here, but the beautiful part is that she IS there with you: she's in the boldness of your boy, the beautiful eyes of your first girl and she is everywhere in Meadow. She's in the wind and the sunsets, the crickets chirping and the first snowflakes of the year. Your momma is everything beautiful and good and oh, so incredible! that makes up this beautiful world. Yes, we lose the physical of those we love more than Life itself, but they come back and surround us and wrap us up in their special presence. Believe that, Summer. Thinking of you this weekend.ReplyCancel

  • Karen, Brian and Lucy - September 14, 2014 - 8:42 pm

    So beautifully said Summer. And for those of us who have been through it–unfortunately–we know exactly how you feel. I still pause sometimes to hear my mom's voice too. I still can hear it–it has been almost 4 years. Thank you for sharing, and for your (always stunning) photography. Your mom is so proud.ReplyCancel

I ran yesterday for the first time in 6 weeks.  Six whole weeks.  It was the first running hiatus I have ever taken that was not caused by an injury.  One of my life motto’s has been, there is always time for a run.  And there was–then. Turns out, life happens and well, life happened.  […]

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  • Colleen Putman - September 3, 2014 - 3:21 pm

    this is beautiful, summer!ReplyCancel

  • Ky | TwoPretzels - September 3, 2014 - 3:29 pm

    Oh Summer, ALL OF THIS MADE SENSE TO ME.
    There is definitely a season for everything.
    And I can relate so much to this: "… if there is one ball in the air, there are likely four just laying on the ground."

    I'm finding that releasing the backpack of burdens of "I should do this" or "I should do that" is key; we get one shot at this life and sometimes changing it up is what we need to do.

    Great post. Phenomenal photo.

    I love Chanelle's toothlessness right now. 🙂
    ReplyCancel

    • Summer Kellogg - September 4, 2014 - 2:49 pm

      I agree completely, Ky. Releasing the backpack of burdens is also so very freeing.

      And yes, toothless Chanelle is quite cute. 😉 ReplyCancel

  • Katie - September 3, 2014 - 3:57 pm

    I agree so much with what you wrote, and I think that's a huge part of Life and of being a parent. It's almost a relief to put aside a few things in order to just "be" and to live the life you want.

    That shot of your two Big 'Uns (what I call Meghan and my husband since their first children) running down the road in the sunset is gorgeous!ReplyCancel

    • Summer Kellogg - September 4, 2014 - 2:50 pm

      You are so right–parenting is about balancing and it is always changing with every season, isn't it?ReplyCancel

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