I spent all of last Saturday at a scrapbooking event. At first, I was dubious about going. It was from 9 am until 9 pm. “Who’d want to scrapbook all day?” I asked my husband. He told me one of the other ladies had mentioned she’d be popping in and out all day, as she had to run her kids around. Okay, I thought, I can do that. Especially since it was going to be at the church, which is a block away from our home. So I went, and my husband was able to laugh at my initial question, because yes, I spent all day—from nine until about eight—scrapbooking.
Ever since I went to Australia, I’ve been meaning to scrapbook the pictures that I took. Oh, not all 1200 or so—just a select few (maybe 100) to represent my trip. I decided that Saturday was my opportunity to get started on this, and so I printed most of my pictures and took them with me to the event. After being a bit shocked at how much albums and paper and such cost, I settled in to have fun. Sunshine alternated between playing beside me and going to volleyball games at the school with her daddy and taking naps at home.
As fun as it was to be artistic and creative in arranging my pictures, it was also fun to review the memories. Among the lonely times were the good times, and I left ample little “journal” spaces in between the pictures. Once I’ve finished putting all the pictures in the album, I want to go back to add notes—the stories behind the pictures.
It’s been said that a picture is worth a thousand words, and often that is true. Each picture in that album has so many stories behind it. Like the picture of four girls standing at the top of a hill, cowboy hats on their heads, feet shoulder-width apart, hands clasped behind their backs, grinning at the camera. I was the one who talked the other three into the very steep climb up the hill above the farm near Tamworth. They weren’t sure they wanted to go. They grumbled most of the way up the hill. But at the top, we had an amazing view of the farm, the sheep in the next field over, and the hills all around us—plus a nice picnic.
As I flip back through these memories, I’ve been thinking of things that I want to write—more than just the little journaling squares. While I was in Australia, I bought a book on travel writing, and had grand intentions of practicing while I was traveling. I think I did scribble a few notes about Coober Pedy that could be turned into an article. So the next project on my “writing to-do” list will be to try my hand at travel writing, while the memories and information is fresh in my head from the pictures I’ve just scrapbooked.