Mollie Corbett Photography

These children melt our hearts. The work is nothing once we see their smiles. Big thanks to the sponsors who made it happen, to Randy Roberson for following his big, gooey heart, and to Clint McCommon at Fairfield Studios for always being down for the ride ❤️

Friday night be like:

Lunch at one of my favorites

Open SATURDAYS for breakfast and brunch 6a to 2p

“…‘d’ya get that?”

I watched this beautiful red-shoulder hawk do this 3 times before flying away. It would sit about 4 meters off the ground in a pine tree, dive down into the grass, and start plowing through the soil with its talons, unearthing mole crickets and then swallowing them whole. The entire process still has me scratching my head. The mole crickets are underground. How in the world is this bird finding them? By sound? If so, that’s some super hearing. If not sound, what? Is there just something this incredible bird sees that we as humans don’t? UV or some other form of energy that our eyes and brains can’t process? Whatever it was, the hawk was sure to give me a nice head on “Did you get that?” Confirmation stare.

Georgia O’Keeffe was a woman before her time. She took abstraction and made it personal. She found beauty in the small, the imperfect—in the curves of a flower, the vastness of a desert. But despite her profound talent, she faced skepticism from male critics who dismissed her work as overly feminine, sexualized, or decorative. They failed to recognize the depth and complexity of her artistic vision. But O’Keefe persevered. She refused to let gender norms and societal expectations define her art. She continued to assert her identity as a painter of unparalleled skill and vision. . . . . 📷 Alfred Stieglitz, “Georgia O’Keeffe,” 1929/1932, gelatin silver print, 4 x 3 in., Alfred Stieglitz Collection 🌺 Georgia O’Keeffe, “Jack-in-the-Pulpit No. 3, 5, and IV,” 1930, oils on canvas, Alfred Stieglitz Collection, Bequest of Georgia O’Keeffe