The Good Life – Sunflower Fields Edition
The anticipation of sunflowers year after year — and the way I stalk the Facebook page waiting for that first update that they’re finally blooming. The way their faces turn toward the morning sun. The honey bees tucked into their centers, happily collecting nectar and pollen. The fact that no matter how many times I photograph them, it never gets old. The way these fields have become part of the rhythm of our summers. The way they’ll always take me back to those tender postpartum days with both of my boys — two completely different seasons of life, somehow tied together by the same golden flowers. The way the memories just keep growing.
The Textures of Autumn
Alicia posted a photo of textures on Substack in June and I made my own version for the summer.
A lot of what I share here begins as something small—just a few lines in a notebook that I don’t mean to turn into anything more. Most of it is just me trying to keep up with my own life, to catch something before it slips past unnoticed. Sometimes those entries stretch a little longer, and eventually they make their way here, still carrying that same quiet intention.
Autumn felt different in that way. I found myself paying attention to textures more than usual. The roughness of leaves as they dried out, the softness of worn sweaters pulled back into rotation, the way the light shifted and landed differently across familiar spaces. It gave me something to notice, something to return to throughout the days.
I think that’s part of what keeps me drawn to both photography and writing things down like this. Not to document everything perfectly, but to catch the subtle changes—the ones that don’t ask for attention but quietly shape a season. The way a room feels different in October than it does in August. The way routines soften or settle without you realizing it right away.
Paying attention to textures kept my eyes open in a way I didn’t expect. It made ordinary moments feel layered, almost like there was more to hold onto than I would have noticed otherwise. And now, looking back, it’s those small, tactile things that seem to define the season more than any single event.
Maybe that’s what I’m always trying to do when I write or take a photo—hold onto something that is already changing. Not in a way that stops it, but in a way that lets me return to it later and recognize it for what it was.
Summer Textures
This summer has been overflowing with good things—sun-soaked weekends, full calendars, laughter spilling late into the night. And yet, if I’m honest, it has also left me feeling spent, like a pitcher poured out too many times without being refilled. Our busy weekends have stretched long, causing our normal rhythms to spill over into the week, blurring the lines between rest and hurry.
The patterns of the seasons—both the ones written in creation and the ones we choose for ourselves—never fail to amaze me. They tumble forward like a ball rolling downhill, picking up speed until it seems unstoppable. Summer, in all its brilliance, can feel like that: bursting with life and color, but racing so fast it’s hard to catch your breath.
I wouldn’t trade the joys of this season—being with our people and soaking in experiences—for anything. And yet, woven into that joy is a gentle longing for what’s ahead. I find myself dreaming of fall: the cozy season, where the air cools, routines return, and the pace of life shifts from sprint to stroll.
This idea to look for textures is an invitation to pause in the middle of the whirlwind. A reminder that this season won’t last forever, both in the sense of summer itself and the phase of life I’m in right now. Change will come, as it always does. And in the meantime, there is goodness here too.
Even in the hustle, God’s kindness shows up—in small, almost imperceptible ways. In the moments where I don’t have to choose or plan or decide. In the quiet spaces where I can finally breathe, and remember that I don’t hold my life together. He does. And somehow, that makes both the fullness of summer and the slowness of fall feel like gifts worth receiving.
Coffee ☕️ Love
Kevin got an espresso machine for his birthday in December and he’s been making all kinds of yummy drinks that have been a treat to photograph.
Sunflower Fields
Dive deep into the present moment and be delighted by the joy you find.
-Morgan Harper Nichols
About
Hi, I'm Jacqueline - believer, learner, and all around hobby enthusiast. I'm married to my highschool sweetheart, Kevin, and we live in the midwest with our sweet pup.
On this blog I share all kinds of things about my life - from my faith journey to the garden in my neighbors backyard. I've been blogging for almost eight years and use this space as a way to document my daily life.
Thanks for stopping by my little corner of the internet.