And so it begins. Some think of it as going back to the grind, but for my kids, this beautiful morning felt like some sort of rebirth. Both were up hours before me ready to bound into school adorned in their own unique look. Every year at this time, a mother realizes that her moments like this will become less frequent as her children grow up.  She cant help but tighten her grip around these moments like precious gold. My kids are growing up and I believe in the individuals they are becoming.  I hope that this morning's  joy carries them through the first few math assignments, the forgotten locker combos and the jockey to claim a seat at the lunch table. This year, like every other they will grow, thrive and learn and if your anything like me, you've got the best seat in the house to watch it unfold. Enjoy the show. 

In exactly 40 days this household will have reached a milestone. We will have a teenager. It's hard to imagine that my once tiny baby is now looking me in the eye (without shoes on). In short order, she has grown up, smarter, more beautiful and with more dreams than I could have ever imagined. And while this knowing, soon to be thirteen year old goes through her day, I'm fascinated at how she tackles it.  We do things differently. I'm rushed and harried, she's patient and observing. As she delves into book after book, she lives in a world of words while I live in a world of images.  She loves modern, I love rusticity. But despite our many differences we share a similar sense of fortitude which I believe will carry her along and help her thrive. Kate has given me a gift by allowing me to capture her soul through photographing her over the years. Her willingness to help hone my skills is one of the main reasons I have stuck with the hobby turned profession. And while I may get an rare eye-roll on occasion(she is amost a teen after all), the camera has always loved her as much as I do. She asked for this shoot (the first one she has asked for in a while), and as soon as she did, I stirred with the excitement of Christmas morning. We were off to a little village in Mont Tremblant to find a dress, a new blouse and a hat to top things off. Somehow, in the same breath, she reaffirms my love for portraiture as i fall in love with my baby girl all over again. She more than my ordinary miracle, she's the most extraordinary one.

What makes life interesting is opportunity. As soon as my family piles into the trusty old Subaru, every turn of the journey unwraps opportunity like a unexpected gift. The trip that brought us to Mont-Tremblant was no different. For many of us that frequent the Ironman world, the scene is often the same from one race to another. But to really absorb the possibilities, we need to look beyond the well muscled athletes decked out in aero gear donning sheer determination on their faces. I have overcome the beleaguered Ironman spouse experience by making it my own. I look forward to the day as much as the athlete. Excitedly I often look for things that only I have been privy to, sometimes because Im looking for it and sometimes by sheer chance. Often these opportunities happen on race day and sometimes it blankets the big event. Somehow, the story becomes richer when little pieces are puzzled together. Have a look at some of the pieces.

As an Ironman, photographer and veteran Iron-spectator, I thought I would share some photos and thoughts on the new Ironman MontTremblant experience.  Every race brings it’s own certain flair and this one pleased. Hopefully these photos will have you considering some French lessons and a trip to Canada next year for this new and exciting  Ironman. Here are ten reasons to head up to Quebec for this event.

1.     The organization of this event was flawless. Everything was accounted for. The organizer, who is pictured here, seemed calm, cool and collected on race day. He was able to enjoy race day because he delegated well and his team seemed determined to make this race unforgettable.  The volunteer Iron crew was huge, 4000 strong ensuring each athlete had everything needed for a successful race.

2.    Athletes felt secure on the road here as the locals enthusiastically waited for race day.  The roads were impeccable and newly paved. I even saw town officials out the evening before the event cleaning the already clean roads.  It seems that every store that I entered in St. Jovite had an employee that had volunteered for race day. Ironman signage was everywhere, making athletes feel welcome and locals feel involved and important. 

3.     It seems that Ironman Mont-tremblant is determined to be billed as family friendly and generally more fun than other races. The venue of Mont-Tremblant is a good place for families because of its Disneyesque charm, without the annoyingness of Disney. It’s affordable here and you have lots of lodging options. Outside the pricer village hotel area, there are lots of condos around the lake area (that’s what we did). Up in the village, they had a fantastic concert led by a band whose leader was able to inspire even the tightest Type A pre-race triathletes to shake their tail feathers even if just for a few minutes. They followed it up with some really cool fireworks that made the athletes feel kinda special. The fireworks were a great display of color before the  athletes had an opportunity to display their own on race-day. 

4.     Lac Tremblant is crystal clear, warm considering how north it is and wet suit legal. The start of the Ironman was a bit difficult to spectate because of lack of real estate, but the athletes had a nice wide beach to start their adventure from. 

5.     The bike: The road Chemin Du Plessis, the hilly portion, made you feel like a kid on a roller coaster. I had fun riding it with my son and I can only imagine how much fun it was on race day.  Then came the highway 117 and Montee Ryan where the pavement is pristine and like glass with wide shoulders and lots of wiggle room. There should have been no excuse for drafting on this course.  ( But I still saw lots of it going on anyway)

6.    Let me first apologize to my daughter’s school principal that I once told that we would never need to speak French. I was wrong. While almost everyone in Quebec probably speaks English, French is preferred.  This part of Canada doesn’t feel very Canadian. If you want to have a European vacation without the cost, this is your next best thing. Try the Poutine, it looks a bit gross (in my humble opinion)but taste good. At the athlete feeding area, this is the way a Quebecois would deal with salt and fat replenishment after a long day of racing.  

7.    People aren’t afraid to wear speedos here. At least the one guy in this picture.  But despite the guy in the speedo(who's probably faster than you), the athletes here seemed to be cut of from a better cloth. Maybe the course was fast, but the quality of athlete was apparent. 

8.    You’ll pay up for meals here, but take a trip down to the supermarket in St. Jovite for a fun cultural and label reading experience. Don’t look for bagels here, go for the croissants instead. The little restaurants in town made me feel like I was in Paris.

9.   There were tons of spectators that showed enthusiasm like no other; so many that it was a quiet reprieve on the bike trail during the run. Maybe the Canadians are so good at spectating because of their national obsession with hockey. Either way, it took the athletes away from their pain and helped carry them home.

10.     The run course was deceptively hard, but not a killer. It was a perfect mix of soft surface bike trail that was totally flat (making it easy on tired legs) combined with a winding hilly section of roads to keep it interesting. The people in Old Mont-Tremblant came out in huge numbers to cheer on the runners. At the end of the day, athletes ran down into the cobble-stoned ski village to finish under a nice finish arch under the clock-tower. 

Thankfully there are some things in life that hardly change.  Despite my love for the unexpected, coming back to Lake Placid reminds me that some places are best unchanged. Somehow the place leaves you recharged and ready to take on life back home. It is here that the best ideas for the future often find their way into my head and the best memories are given time to sink in. It's a perfect place in so many ways. And while the pictures I take here from year to year have a similar feeling, it's a good thing to know they still leave me inspired. 

A huge chunk of my life was spent rowing a boat. If you think about it, it's funny how I have propelled my way through life by going backwards. One of the most challenging things about rowing is how to navigate the journey. After all, I don't have eyes on the back of my head to make it easy.  You have to  trust your instincts that taking the right line comes with a quick glance over the shoulder and just the right amount of pressure on your oars.  There are many obstacles to avoid, but row smart and the prize is yours. 

Today is a big vote here in Middlefield, CT. The fate of Powder Ridge is on all our minds this morning. We're all rowing into this decision aware of the many obstacles in front of us. Like a long meandering row down the river, we have to trust what we see over our shoulders and apply the right pressure to get where we want to go. At the end of my morning row, I know I got the most out of my efforts because I exercised with heart and mind.  We live in metaphors. Exercise your right to vote today.  Trust your instincts and hold your line. The more of us that vote, the better direction this town will take. 


To be more informed, check out Patch.com for everything you need to know about the facts. http://durham.patch.com/articles/10-facts-about-the-powder-ridge-deal

One of the best things about being a kid is the snail pace that is summer. Summer starts out embellished by an enthusiasm like no other.  But soon, like every other novel happening, a rhythm is found and we settle in. We have become accustomed to the hot days that this particular year has bestowed upon us. Our neighbor’s horses have become resigned to the heat and we have all followed suit.  We all seem to languish except for the cucumbers that celebrate the heat by proliferating. Anybody want some? As we vacuumed floors today and did the obligatory chores that no one likes to do, our toil showed as buckets of sweats poured from us. This old house has a cruel way of torturing us during the heat waves of summer and perhaps even more so during the cold snaps of the winter.  Standing in the doorway, feeling like the relentlessness of summer was stuck to me, I watched a storm come in. Within minutes, it was pouring. The newly planted elephant ear reached out to the water droplets with its massive leaves listening to the rain. The Hydrangeas celebrated the soaking. I could hear the kids stirring as they looked out the bedroom window. My husband turned off the vacuum and was the first to walk out into the pouring rain. Like the man from an Irish Spring commercial, he stood face up to the clouds daring it rain harder…and it did. The kids would run out next wearing bathing suits and trouncing through puddles.  Grabbing my camera, I would take a few photos before diving into the puddles myself. Summer had acting up like an impatient child and had it’s own special kind of tantrum. We all reveled in its misbehavior. In short notice, summer had changed into an entirely different kind of animal and we welcomed it with open arms. Summer somehow redeemed itself as we sat on the porch cooled off and laughing. When it pours like that, there is little you can do but enjoy the unordinary miracle for what it is.

Tonight was the 7th Annual Motorcycle Mania in Middletown. I’ll admit, I was mingling with a different crowd of bikers than I usually hang with. The main difference here is that my biking buddies wear spandex and wouldn’t be caught dead without a helmet.  Although the look is different, this group of enthusiasts is equally as passionate about what they do. Despite the obvious differences in their respective sports, their hearts are in the same place. Both love what they do and its undeniable. Whether the attire is leather or spandex, both have bikes that make their heart’s race and play the role of their most prized possession.  Wearing no leather, I felt oddly out of fashion walking down Main Street, Middletown this evening.  But the sights and sounds resonated far more than my fashion misstep.  There must have been well over 5000 bikes lining Main Street. I enjoyed the novelty of walking down the middle of the road as the traffic lights changed over our heads. The deep ruckus coming from bikes without their mufflers added to the ambiance.  The bikers would motor down the road much like a model flaunts her stuff down the narrow catwalk; their bikes being a lean form of eye-candy. 

Watching the Olympics over the past weeks has brought me on a journey of discovery. It’s through discovering other’s people’s passions that my worldview is extended. In short order, obscure sports like table tennis and fencing have unexpectedly entered into my realm of thought although they never really had before. It was another reminder in life that we are all connected by our passions. Somehow the enjoyment of watching people do what they love to do, makes me feel more connected.  So let this be a reminder to open your mind and celebrate one another’s fervor for what's keeping them real. While I may not trade the spandex out for leather, I’ll be with them in spirit.

Growing up I always wanted a horse. I was completely unaware of what existed beyond the glamour of the majestic animals. Too bad that in my hometown of Rye, New York, the 4H club didn't exist. Recently, I was introduced to a group of 4 H kids that operate their club out of Deerfield Farm in Durham. They work primarily with the beautiful cows seen in many of these photos. I'll put it this way, farming isn't easy. But for those that choose so, it's extremely rewarding. These kids seem to value the purity of farm-life over the high-speed over-stimulated world of texting and technology. Among the bales of hay and well kept animals, the kids kept engaged in conversation with each other. It was refreshing to see a new generation of youth willing to learn and understand the rigors of the farm. They don't seem to mind their toil as they hoist hay, groom the animals and put the utmost care into their jobs.  

"I pledge my Head to clearer thinking,
my Heart to greater loyalty,
my Hands to larger service, 
and my Health to better living...
for my club, my community,
my country, and my world."