Michelle of All Your Heart Photography is a family, maternity, and newborn lifestyle photographer based in Killeen, Texas and serves Fort Hood, Copperas Cove, Harker Heights, Belton, and surrounding areas in Central Texas . She uses natural light to capture meaningful memories of your family with sincerity and authenticity. To contact Michelle or schedule a session, click here.
If you've ever asked for book recommendations from me, you've probably heard me mention the Outlander series by Diana Gabaldon. I'm currently reading My Own Heart's Blood via Audible, narrated by the amazingly talented, award-winning Davina Porter.
Out of the entire Outlander series, Voyager is my favorite book. There are so many juicy, exciting, and adventurous elements - and soon we'll see the book come to life with Season 3 on Starz!
Diana Gabaldon's big books start with poetic prologues, vignettes that illustrate a theme in the book; in Voyager, the theme is water. This photography session was inspired by the prologue to Voyager, which is featured below, woven between images. I envisioned lots of splashing and puddles, and it was fun to utilize my daughter's love of water and playing outdoors. From a photography stand point, it's absolutely magical the way light and water work together. Can't wait to do this again! Enjoy!
When I was small, I never wanted to step in puddles. Not because of any fear of drowned worms or wet stockings; I was by and large a grubby child, with a blissful disregard for filth of any kind.
It was because I couldn’t bring myself to believe that that perfect smooth expanse was no more than a thin film of water over solid earth. I believed it was an opening into some fathomless space. Sometimes, seeing the tiny ripples caused by my approach, I thought the puddle impossibly deep, a bottomless sea in which the lazy coil of tentacle and gleam of scale lay hidden, with the threat of huge bodies and sharp teeth adrift and silent in the far-down depths.
And then, looking down into reflection, I would see my own round face and frizzled hair against a featureless blue sweep, and think instead that the puddle was the entrance to another sky. If I stepped in there, I would drop at once, and keep on falling, on and on, into blue space.
The only time I would dare to walk through a puddle was at twilight, when the evening stars came out. If I looked in the water and saw one lighted pinprick there, I could splash through unafraid—for if I should fall into the puddle and on into space, I could grab hold of the star as I passed, and be safe.
Even now, when I see a puddle in my path, my mind half-halts—though my feet do not—then hurries on, with only the echo of the thought left behind.
What if, this time, you fall?
Thanks for reading!