Why it's all worth it (Denver Floral Mini Shoot)

April 22nd, 2017
2:30-4:30 P.M.

Examples from last year's shoot taken by Suzy Holman of Simply Suzy Photography, Denver, CO.

Examples from last year's shoot taken by Suzy Holman of Simply Suzy Photography, Denver, CO.

$145/ twenty minute session
(includes 3 digital images | $300 value)


I am SO incredibly excited to announce this very rare, very exciting mini shoot!
But first, I must divert your attention momentarily to a progressive theory I have about photography that I'd like to share with you.
Once upon a time, I read a blog post (back in the day when blogging was just budding) about how "fake" a lot of lifestyle/mom/home blogs were getting to be. We see and hear it all the time- we typically post just the BEST versions of ourselves. We post the pictures that only show the best angles of our faces and bodies. We clear off a counter in the kitchen and shoot JUST that portion while the three day old dishes and piles of unfiled bills and kids homework lurk just outside of the frame. We post on instagram all our vacation adventures and all the BEST moments of our days. We try our hardest to show the world that we've got it all together even just for a moment so that we actually sort of feel like we have it all together.
Typically the moments that don't make it on there are when we ugly cried in the bathroom for twenty minutes when the dinner burned and the kids were fighting and we just couldn't take it another minute. Typically we don't post when we're mid-yelling at our oldest for forgetting to tellabout their sciences project that is due tomorrow until just now. Typically we don't post about when we tried on that new swimsuit that's been waiting in the drawer and were so depressed about how horribly it fit that we cancelled the pool trip for the day.
Welp. A few weeks ago I took a late night random visit through my ancient and decaying family blog that I haven't posted in since two moves ago. I was looking for a particular post I had made about some details around my youngest's birth story, and ended up going back through post after post about the early years of our youthful (and yes, naive) parenting. Surprisingly, I found myself lamenting what happened to the vigor I once so obviously had. There were park days, trips to museums, house happenings, baking, ALL THE THINGS! I actually thought- MAN! I had it all together!
And then I actually laughed out loud. Because I knew straight up I had nothing together back then. I cried a lot. I stressed a lot. I LONGED for the day when the kids would be in school and I had a moment of quiet where I didn't have to feed a baby or change a diaper, and was desperate to have an actual adult conversation with someone. I remembered those beautiful cookies I decorated for my oldest's class for her sixth birthday and that they tasted gross (but looked amazing, hence why they made it to the blog). I giggled at my little boys' snarky faces and jumping in puddle posts, even though I'm sure we had gone through several massive melt-downs just previous and probably several times after the pictures. I didn't think about the bad things, I just remembered all the good moments. And a few tears sprung to my eyes as I realized that how I was seeing my younger self is exactly what I wanted to remember. If I sat there looking at pictures of a messy house and screaming kids and me having none of the things together, I'd be closing out of that blog and probably not looking through it again anytime soon.
Instead, the next day I started unloading some of the funny stories of my kids, and they LOVED it. They hardly remembered any of them, but I got to paint them this gorgeous picture of what their young childhood was like (and really what it still is like).
All that being said, why do you pay money to have the happy pictures where you got everyone looking amazing (including yourself) and everyone is laughing under a gorgeous wreath of spring flowers in a dreamy white window-lit room?
To remind yourself, years from now, that you and your family really ARE that beautiful. That you really do have it all together, imperfections at all. And that those moments don't have a pricetag.

Almost Spring

March is a weird month.
It gets warm out consistently all of a sudden, and then almost overnight things start blooming. In Colorado, that always makes me afraid for the little buds and blooms peeking through the dark soil. Go back in, little ones! Don't you know it might blizzard at any moment? Wouldn't you rather just stay tucked away for another month until you know for sure the threat is over?
Nope. Those delicate blossoms are fearless. They're made in darkness, actually. They have no clue what the weather is like, they just feel the warmth of the sun, even through the layers of dirt and rocks, and they want to get near it as soon as possible.
We moved into this amazing house last year and enjoyed, through no effort of our own, the fruits of our previous owners' work on the landscaping and gardening around the house. They planted, thank heavens, a lot of low effort greenery, so although we may have done the occasional weed pulling here and there, we did mostly nothing to make our landscaping blossom. The mums were literally like fireworks in late summer. It seemed like every week another color exploded from the green bushes out front, and I LOVED how it looked.
Then as summer heat cooled into brisk fall, those mums aged so gracefully over months and months, snowstorms, frosts, and winter cold. I told myself countless times I needed to trim them down, but I didn't. Secretly I kind of liked how they looked all stiff and dried. Like a weird, winter bouquet around the front gardens. So I left them.

I told myself I would trim them down before it got too warm.
March is mostly a weird month because things start to grow amidst all the dry, brown, leftovers from fall. It's a giant combination of death and life all meshed together. Whether the dead things get cleared away or not, life pushes through as best as it can. It's cumbersome, yes, making it's way through tangles of leaves and old flower petals, sometimes battling for light from sticks around it that no longer need the light.

I went out this weekend, and although just weeks ago I was admiring how pretty the snow looked on the withering, old mums, I saw leaves bushing up at the bottom of all the dead stems. The new mums didn't need to suffer at the expense of the old anymore. So I cut and dug and raked as much as I could, and now I have a very barren looking garden. However it's a garden that has room for growth.
Here's to another year of pretty landscape.