My definition of home has changed now. I now have two literal homes. One, at my parent’s house, where I’ve spent my entire childhood growing up. The other, was my dorm room at college. I found it funny how quickly we all started saying, “I’m going home,” in reference to our dorm rooms at college. But to me it really was home. I felt safe, it belonged to me, I could be alone, I could call it my own.  (Hah! That kind of rhymed….)

My home at college was so exciting. I lived in the same building as many of my friends, I didn’t have to ask my parents if I could go out or have my friends come up for a movie. We just did it. And I loved the freedom. Now that I’m back in my parent’s house, it’s a little restricting again. Even though I do have more freedoms than I did while going to grade school here (read: car), I still have all those memories of being trapped here because I wasn’t allowed to go out. It makes it pretty suffocating here still. So my goal, as I leave my little dorm room an come home here, is to try to make it more exciting again. Basically, stay active and creative so I don’t feel so suffocated at home.

So guess what I did?! First thing I did when I came home Thursday, was jump in my car (I missed it) and drive down to the beach and take pictures of the sunset. I had about three minutes before it was gone when I got there, so I snapped until my battery died. Then I just sat in the car for a while and watched the sky get dark. It was nice. As much as I hate the clichéd pictures of my town’s lighthouse (there are only so many angles one can cover), I don’t think I can ever get sick of the sunsets over Lake Michigan.

I went out again last night. This time in an attempt to chase some lightning. I didn’t get any good lightning pictures, but I got some cool rainy night shots  of the bridge and the river downtown. I also have found some good locations for shooting lighting on the lake for when the weather is better. It’s still a bit chilly out here. Some summer rains will be more comfortable I think. See the results from both nights of shooting on my Flickr.

Inspired by @JavaJunky‘s desire to go sit on some swings, I was reminded of my own love for swings. I recall being quite the swing hog when I was in primary school (K-3). I would run out across the playground in order to get the best swing for me; one where my feet wouldn’t drag in the gravel nor would I have to jump up to reach the seat.

Once I had the perfect swing, I would spend the almost whole grueling 20 minute recess on that one swing. Usually I’d have a friend next to me and we’d race to see who could get the highest the fastest. And whenever two people got stuck swinging together at the same rate we’d shout, “Get out of my bathroom!” and other such childish things.

Other times I would be alone, or just in my own mind and I would just watch the clouds above, aiming my feet at them. Then I’d imagine being able to jump off at the very top of the upswing and fly over the football feild and over the trees on the other side.

This is one of my few childhood memories that let’s me pry into that child’s imagination I had back then. I savor these memories and still enjoy a good session on a swing to really remember them. Now, if you were also a swing hog, then you know the one funny downside to swinging for so long. When you finally jump off at the end of recess when they rung the bell, you land in a spray of dirty gravel and stand up and do that funny waddle back to the classroom because your butt has lost partial felling from the swing seat.

To all fellow swing hogs: go find a swing for me and go swinging again. :)

Most people like spring. It’s the end of all the cold snow and the beginning to a new, warm summer in temperate regions. But when I tell people I hate spring, and it’s my least favorite season, they are shocked and appalled. But it’s a simple and logical explanation having to do with where I grew up.

For one, I can never answer the question, “What’s your favorite season?” because it’s a tie between summer and winter. I always recall once when I was in preschool I was babysat by my best friend’s mom. So when we weren’t in school, I was with my best friend all day long! And I remember, standing at the big bay window at the front of the house, complaining about the heat of summer jumping up and down singing, “We want winter! We want winter!” in that generic child sing-song voice. But then after winter rolled around, we would get sick of being wet and cold from playing in the snow. We would go to the same bay window, where the snow drifted up to our chest level against the window, and sing, “We want summer! We want summer!”

That has basically stayed the same, and now I love both summer and winter equally. Now, why do I hate spring? It’s because of where I live. My house, which I’ve lived in all my life, is next to a steep, slightly wooded ravine with a stream at the bottom. It’s beautiful and we have huge windows in our kitchen that look out over it where we can watch all the little critters run around and birds eat at the feeders. But the thing with all the trees dropping their leaves in a temperate area, is they soon get covered in snow for a whole winter. That means, come spring, when the snow melts, all the dead leaves get soaked and start rotting under the sunlight. Rotting equals disgusting smell, not to mention the worms. Also, living next to a ravine with a stream means that there’s stagnant water around which is prime breeding ground for mosquitos. We literally get clouds of mosqitos by my house and as a kid I was always covered in mosquito bites in spring. I’m still shocked I’ve never gotten West Nile or Malaria or something. Haha! (I’m kidding about the Malaria, only half kidding about West Nile….)

It’s these events that have made me come to the point where I hate spring. I hope this is more understandable now and you can excuse my disgust for the season. I make up for it with enthusiasm for summer and winter, and even fall in the right conditions! :)

See videos of my ravine in late winter when the snow first melts and in late spring when its more bearable.