Wow. It has been a LONG TIME since I wrote a blog post. Which is interesting to me because I love to write but rarely do so these days. So without jumping head first in to the trap of New Years promises, let me just say that I plan on writing more. Because I love it and shouldn’t we all fill our days with more of what we love to do as well as what we have to do?

I wanted to welcome in 2020 somewhere other than Nashville. 2019 was a full on year, which they all seem to be at this age with my children being the ages they are but still. I launched a business in 2019 making it a remarkable yet stressful year and I didn’t want to feel any of that when 2020 began. Also, if I am being honest, I am a travel brat and being either on the beach or in the mountains sounded a hell of a lot better than being in Nashville.

So we took the easy road and headed down to the part of Florida known as 30a. Located on the Gulf of Mexico, the white sands and clear blue water are as stunning as any tropical paradise you have dreamt of visiting. We have been visiting this stretch of sand for 13 years and it holds so many wonderful memories for us. We spend our summers road tripping around North America (can you believe we only have Alaska left?), so the yearly tradition of coming to the same place once or twice a year is relished by all of us.

While I love a remote beach, I also love the convenience of having five star restaurants a few steps from the sand and gorgeous coffee shops that will make you a latte while you browse around next door and wonder, sometimes aloud, when you will ever be able to own beautiful WHITE linen sofas like those without the worry of people(my kids/dog) ruining them…

Each morning, I woke early and grabbed my camera to capture some of the magic that being on the beach when the day begins offers. I hope you enjoy. Some of these images will be available on my website under the new collection “Beach Please”.

Thanks for stopping by!

Ask anyone who knows our family what our favourite mode of transportation is and they will all say-ROADTRIP! For us, there is no greater feeling than loading up our trusty Suburban and heading…anywhere. When my husband and I lived in Chicago, everyone at our respective work places would ask us every Friday-”Where are you off to this weekend?”. Becoming parents changed our travel schedule slightly but the greatest impact was felt financially. Taking Emma and then Tate back to my home country of New Zealand was expensive. And then Poppy arrived and we priced purchasing 5 international tickets plus rental car and accommodations etc. It was cost prohibitive to say the least at that stage in our lives.

Having 3 children aged 4 and a half and younger was challenging and the thought of traveling anywhere beyond Florida was not on our radar. Then Poppy turned 2 and I began to dream of dusting off the travel atlas and seeing more of this incredible country. My dear American husband thought I was insane when I mentioned that we should drive to Maine this coming summer. “With the kids?” he quickly asked…

“Yes and you should take 2 weeks off work”…And that is how it began. This summer, we are journeying to the states in the southwest and by the end of July, the only state we will have left on our list is Alaska. Next summer, our dream is to drive from Nashville to Alaska. Which in case you are wondering (and I am guessing you probably are), is almost 60 hours of driving. One way. Other than Hawaii, we have driven to all of the states. So ignoring common sense and wisdom, it makes sense to drive to Alaska too.

We are at our best on the road. I have watched our children develop both a keen sense of adventure and an ability to handle being surrounded with the unfamiliar. I believe that these road trips are the reason that I could take my children to live in New Zealand ( in 2016) and watch them adapt and thrive.

Travel is, in my opinion, the ultimate gift to give your children. I always say that you should, if able, show your children the world instead of giving it to them. We are aware how lucky we are that we get to travel to all of these amazing places. But I believe that the road trip is often overlooked as an option. People ask us all the time why we do it. “Why don’t you fly?” In a world where our lives are so scheduled, the spontaneity of a road trip is so refreshing. So wish us luck as we embark on our 7th long road trip. Its going to be hot. And memorable. But definitely hot. Here are some highlights from some of our earlier adventures.

Back to the land of high end real estate and hydrangeas as far as the eye can see. Because our trip North was planned last minute, all of the preferred accommodations in the Hamptons were booked. July and August are the busiest of months so I settled for a brunch reservation at a place I was dying to try-The Topping Rose House. We requested a table outside in the garden and were seated immediately. Within minutes of arrival, the kids had run off to play and Jeff and I were enjoying our coffee in peace. The memory of this alone time in the midst of a family holiday may positively colour our view of the place but it was lovely in every way. The gardens were expansive, set with pink Veuve Cliquot umbrellas and enough wicker chairs to seat a crowd. The salmon benedict was superb and the property demanded a return visit.

Growing up in New Zealand, I took the close proximity and year round access to the beach for granted. While I knew that the Hamptons would feel very different from New Zealand, I did not know that this would extend to the beaches. Beach parking access, for non-residents can be purchased once a year but the quantities are limited. Very limited. The hotels carry a small number of passes for their guests but not enough to give to each guest. We were very lucky to gain one and spend an incredible evening on one of the best beaches in the area-Flying Point Beach. As we arrived at the beach for a sunset walk, we found the most stunning Long Island scene. It was a lobster boil, complete with string lights, music and what I can only hope were young adults counting their blessings... There was a beach volleyball net that no one was using. After our walk, Jeff put two beach chairs down in the sand for us to enjoy the sunset. It wasn’t long before he was cajoled in to a game of football with the kids. Emma was eventually approached with the kind offer that they could use the beach volleyball court and before I knew it, they had joined the party. I only realized this had happened when Emma ran over with the most delicate (and dare I say delicious) ahi tuna skewer that I had ever seen. I packed up our family just as the lobsters were being served for fear of overstaying our welcome. It was one of those rare and magical holiday nights when the stars seemingly align to give you a memory that you hope will last forever.

From the hydrangea lined driveways to the front lawns that belong at Augusta, the Hamptons are the place to indulge your real estate and landscaping dreams. The kids amused us with “WOW CAN WE LIVE THERE?!” over and over again, each Lane seemingly more exclusive that the one before.

We also ventured to Montauk, also known as “The End” due to its location at the far end of Long Island. A surfer town with a reputation for being a lot of fun once the sun goes down, we enjoyed the beach and some lobster before beating the notoriously bad Friday traffic and heading North.

Our short stay in the Hamptons had come to an end. This is a beautiful place filled with farm stands and orchards as well as beaches and boutiques. You can find anything here from the high end to the laid back, the Hamptons truly has something for everyone.

The Hamptons was a place that I had always wanted to visit. It sounded like my cup of tea-stunning beaches, delicious seafood, grass tennis courts and preppy style as the norm. Oh and Gwyneth lived there so the chance for a sighting was an obvious bonus. Last summer, when we were supposed to be hitting the road to visit all of the beautiful but dauntingly hot states of the Southwest, I pulled the plug and begged my family to agree to head North. Way North. Prince Edward Island and Nova Scotia north. It meant that we were bound to repeat some of the places we had shown them years before but the Hamptons were unknown to all of us and they did not disappoint.

Sag Harbor was a quaint town that felt more historic than some of the other towns in the Hamptons. The downtown oozed authentic Americana with white clapboard houses and swinging American flags. But don’t let the word quaint fool you, we had one of our best lunches there at the classic Le Bilboquet.

After a delicious lunch, I shamelessly attempted to shake the family by suggesting they check out the near by boats so that I could visit the most sacred of places aka the Goop store. Alas, they were on to me and we all went to meet Gwyneth (not really). The Goop store was just as I had hoped it would be. Filled with products that immediately went on my birthday, Christmas, and I went for a run today list, I was thrilled to experience it. The kids jumped in the Goop Moke which gave me a laugh and the lovely people working there took many snaps-amused by my kids.

The town of Southhampton was busier and less quaint than Sag Harbor and yet it still never missed an opportunity to welcome you in. From the storefronts decorated with red geraniums and American bunting to the vintage cars that rolled down Main Street, it was like an 80’s smorgasbord for the eyes. There was just so much to look at.

All of the boutiques we visited were gorgeous and curated and felt like my house may look if I were single and independently wealthy…but there was one more place that I was dying to go-the One Kings Lane Shop.

One Kings Lane, Southhampton

Housed in a historic library, the One Kings Lane shop was what nautical, beachy dreams are made of. I spent over an hour there, each room better than the one before. If the Hamptons lifestyle that many of us dream of and so few get to actually eperience had a stylist, this place was it.

It was a dream to visit the Hamptons last summer, and it will be even more of a dream to return in a few weeks time to participate in the OKL pop up shop on June 22nd. I will be showcasing my photography along with some very talented ladies. And who knows, maybe Gwyneth will pop by?

Salt Spray-Marine Collection

My family and I have been traveling to the part of Florida known as 30a for the last 12 years. Easily accessible (an eight hour drive or a one hour flight) from Nashville, the white sand beaches and clear turquoise water beckon frequently. It is a destination that many refer to as the “New Florida”. With plenty of beautiful homes, restaurants that boast top notch cuisine as well as the predictable children’s menu favourite’s, it is a holiday that we happily repeat at least once a year. But with any popular destination, there are the negatives. The largest of which are the crowds. Because we travel during school holidays (wouldn’t it be nice to not do that but that would involve home schooling and there isn’t a destination on this planet that is worth that…), we always visit at peak times which can mean that the beaches and the beautiful restaurants that make you feel like you are dining somewhere remote and tropical are crowded. I am crowd-averse so when I am the eighth person in line to get my morning soy latte, I feel like I am on MTV Spring Break…

So when my girlfriend whose family owns two beachfront condos on Anna Maria Island in Florida recently invited my friends and I to spend 4 days there, I could not have said yes fast enough. Here was my chance to experience “Old Florida”.

Anna Maria Island is a barrier island located on the coast of Manatee County. It boasts 7 miles of white sand beaches that rival any I have ever experienced. While it has received many awards, it has managed to receive the notoriety without losing the quaint island feel. Each local that I spoke to was kind and lovely and made me feel as if I had stepped back in time, in all of the good ways. There were times when we had the beach to ourselves and I drank in all of the empty space. And the rosé. I definitely drank the rosé until it was empty…along with my girlfriends of course.

The next few days were spent jumping in the ocean, reading books cover to cover and eating delicious seafood. We laughed until we cried and cried until we laughed. We were like the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants without the shared jean size.

My girlfriends are truly my life’s lifeline. I have built my life with a foundation of solid friendships that have given to me more than they will ever know. This particular group of friends have been in my life since my oldest daughter was one. Although our collective children were the reason for our introduction, they all scattered to various schools and we remained woven together. Through deaths and divorce and damn hard times, when our lives were more different than the same, we continued to get together and simply show up for each other.

So were there any negatives to Anna Maria Island? Perhaps just one. I spent each and every morning searching the entire island for a soy latte but to no avail. With each hopeful, and perhaps desperate “May I have a soy latte?”, the replies were a consistent blend of kindness and “No-we don’t have soy here.”

While I missed my morning coffee routine, I cherished my time spent on Anna Maria Island. And I will continue to cherish our annual holiday in Rosemary Beach. Because when you find yourself recalling a moment or conversation and smiling, you realize that it is not the destination that matters. It is the people you are with.

I was at my youngest daughter’s soccer game yesterday, surrounded by my fellow Mum friends, all discussing our plans (or lack thereof) for Mother’s Day when I decided to ask the following question.

“If you knew what Motherhood was going to be like, would you have become a Mother?”

Now if you are reading this and gasping, you can relax. Everyone answered in the affirmative but not before taking a deep breath. A deep, cleansing, thoughtful breath. Without going in to further detail because we were, after all, there to watch our daughters play soccer, it was understood that we all took deep breaths because this gift, this responsibility, this job is HARD.

Today, my social media has been filled with gorgeous tributes to beautiful Mums and appreciative families. And I have loved seeing all of the expressions of love and gratitude. My children showered me with handmade cards while I double fisted soy lattes and mimosas poured by my husband amidst the temporary bliss. Mother’s Day is a wonderful day. The cynics would say that it is just a hallmark day and we shouldn’t need to be told when to celebrate what. Well maybe we shouldn’t but life is crazy and hectic and if someone, somewhere decided that this day in May would be a day where children would try really hard not to fight with their siblings and husbands would DO ALL THE THINGS WE WANT THEM TO DO for just one day well then, I am all for it. Contrived or not.

And I also recognize that many spend this day and so many more, feeling their heart strings pulled in every direction for love that hasn’t happened yet or love that happened and then was lost. This is my second Mother’s Day without mine to ring, without hearing her voice on the end of the phone while she put up with hearing me go on and on about what an incredible Mum she was and how lucky I was to call her mine.

Although, never one to paint a dishonest picture, you should know that she also spent a great deal of my childhood telling me that she was “SO GLAD SHE JUST HAD JUST ONE DAUGHTER” because compared to my brothers, I was mouthy and social and required a lot more of everything she had to give. And what she had to give, being a single Mother of three kids with a full time job and no time to herself was not a lot. Or so I thought.

Then I became a Mum and our relationship changed. She and I now had more in common than we ever had before, a shared understanding. We had never been part of the same ‘club’ until now. Stories flowed more freely about my childhood, as if I could now be trusted with them because I spoke the same language. I called her with every update on my children and to ask her advice on both the large issues and the small ones. She was the strictest of Mother’s and yet, sometimes critiqued me for the same standards. I remember being in her kitchen a couple of years ago and she had given my kids some chocolate before they rushed out to play soccer in her back yard. When we went to leave a short while later, she offered ice cream. I politely declined on my children’s behalf to which she replied, looking past me to her grandchildren’s hopeful faces, “one scoop or two.”

Four days before she took her last breath, as I was tucking her in at night and waiting for her to fall asleep, she looked at me and said “I don’t deserve a daughter like you.” In that horrible room that was draining me of hope as it was draining her of life, she gave me the only thing left that she could, her approval.

Mother’s Day will forever be full of happiness, gratitude and sadness, as I am sure it is for most people out there. But I will look forward to it every year, because amongst the laughter and the many tears, there is momentary bliss.

I am 45 and for all intensive purposes, a late bloomer. Some may say very late. And while we are on the subject, the actual bloom that is taking place is debatable and subjective but lets just go with it shall we?

I have always loved photography. I inherited a love for the medium from my father. He was never without his camera and as a result, I have a very documented childhood. Which is such an amazing gift, unless you consider the years between my 13th and my 17th birthdays…

Photography is a medium that is more representative of the passing of time than any other. I struggle, like many other people to stay in the moment and be present. Except when I have my camera. There is no other option with photography because you are capturing the here and the now, frame by frame and second by second.

So I decided to finally get serious, buy the professional camera, take the courses and learn the art of photography. And it has been hard. Because as many of you can relate to, learning a new skill and putting yourself out there is challenging and terrifying and stressful as, well you know. I have always known the type of images that I wanted to create but actually creating them, is not easy. Maybe it will be one day but it certainly isn’t yet.

This weekend, I participated in a local art show. Not just any art show, but a highly regarded art show that is notoriously difficult to be accepted in to. My friends encouraged me to “just apply” which felt, given the reputation of the art show, to be a comfortable long shot. Until I was accepted. The next few months tumbled by with emotions that swung between feeling validated and also terrified. Mostly terrified. Terrified of what? That other F word, FAILURE. At 45, I have stayed in my lane, so to speak since becoming a Mum. I stayed home with my kids, took photos that people loved and complemented and was happy. Until they went to school and I wanted more. I wanted something that was all mine. Not a new concept for a lot of parents but it was for me. I knew exactly what I wanted to do but it required putting myself out there to be questioned, judged, and of course rejected. So I worked like crazy shooting, editing, creating a website and a branding concept and so many more mundane yet necessary pieces of the ‘staring a business’ puzzle.

On Wednesday evening, I loaded my husband’s Chevrolet Suburban with all of my art. My husband was out of town on a business trip so my children insisted on helping which I was both grateful for and terrified that they would drop a piece and break it and I would have to play “understanding Mum” which would have been damn hard given all the stress I was under.

As I arrived at the school where the show was being held, it started to rain really hard with the odd lightning strike thrown in for good measure. I grabbed one of my large pieces, wrapped in an assortment of beach towels and headed for the entrance a short distance away. I was wet, hunched over and shuffling like a ninety five year old. It wasn’t pretty. And then I looked around at all of the other artists arriving and the contrasts were staggering. While my arrival method could be kindly described as ‘unorthodox’, others were pulling up in Mercedes Sprinter vans with their logo painted on the side, assistants were ready with all types of contraptions ready to transport, easily I might add, their WRAPPED art…not another beach towel or blanket in sight. Now I was uttering the other F word.

Anyone remember that classic Sesame Street game with the four squares and the catchy “one of these things is not like the other, can you tell me which one?” jingle? I was not like the others and I knew it. But I had to continue. And then I located my booth. And this is what I found.

It was a comical error and was all sorted before the show began the next morning. I drove home that night, after hanging all of my work that I had painstakingly chosen over the last few months, surprisingly emotional. My work was now out there and so was I. But I was really emotional because my Mum and Dad are not alive to ring. Whether it to be to celebrate or commiserate with, I couldn’t call them. And so as I drove home alone, my husband not home until tomorrow and my children already asleep, I felt the deep sadness with wanting to call your Mum and not being able to. I have to believe that they would both be proud of me, in working hard and starting a business and still taking care of my family. But I will forever miss hearing their voice on the other end of that phone, especially my Mum’s.

It was a wonderful weekend. I met some incredible artists including my new friend for life Susan Kinsella-go check out her stunning art here www.susankinsellaart.com. And people were incredibly kind about my photography. My very first show was a success but for so many reasons that have nothing to do with sales. I took a step out of the shadows and I survived.

A special thanks to my dear friend Ashley who helped me throughout the weekend. Everyone deserves to have a friend like her in their lives. I am glad I do. And to my dear son Tate who agreed to have his 11th birthday fully celebrated next weekend.

Happy 11th Tate!

It has been a long time since I have written a blog. I had a small blog when I took my children to live in my homeland of New Zealand for 6 months in 2016 (check out the thedimpledexplorers if so inclined) which I really loved writing and creating. So I am giving it a little go again, along with the launch of my Print Shop(see above).

You know those blogs that are super popular and have annoying advertisements and pop ups and swipe-who-knows-which-way to distract you?? Good news, if you are reading this then you are one of four people and there will not be anything like that…until my idol Gwyneth Paltrow discovers me and all bets are off.

So thanks for your time today, let’s see where this thing goes shall we?