these feet.

For whatever reason, as soon as I went to title this post, my mind got stuck on Eric Church’s song “These Boots” – hence, “these feet”. The song is about how one pair of shoes have lived an entire life of their own – they stand for the experiences the narrator has had and represent the memories he carries with him. We all have things like that – whether it’s an article of clothing that we wear more than we should or a piece of jewelry we refuse to take off. And we don’t think about it, but those small things play a part in our recollection of days past.

Webb and I have this stinky army-grade blanket that we bought on his first trip up to Ohio to visit my parents. Over the last year, its odd stench has dissipated for the most part, but every once in a while I can bury my face in it and remember the day we bought it in an old church that had been transformed into a military surplus store – camo paint job and all. He ripped it out of the bag the moment we got in the car, and when we got home we both fell asleep on the couch underneath it. That blanket has been on camping trips, outdoor movie nights, and Netflix binging sprees. And the smell, once insanely miserable, has become a harbinger of comfort for the both of us….

But back to the theme of this post – my feet.

Because I know you want to know where I’m going with this.

A lot of people make fun of me for taking these pictures all the time. And I’ll be honest, the habit doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. I used to steal my mom’s camera on our family vacations and just point it down, taking pictures of my toes submerged in sand or walking along a wooden dock in Savannah. She’d inevitably end up scrolling through her memory card, laughingly rolling her eyes at what she found.

But it hit me the other day, as I was scrolling through all the photos in my phone, that these pictures of my feet tell a story. I can remember when and where each one was taken – and there’s usually a specific and happy memory associated with them.

The photos here are mostly from the last year or so…though a few I was able to dig up from years gone by. My tanned feet in the wet, dark sand where I have a little heart drawn on top of my left foot goes back to a time when I was OBSESSED with a young Taylor Swift, who also drew a heart there. I redrew it so many times that it almost never washed off and left a tan line when it did – not to mention most people thought I had an original concept tattoo. It became MY thing in high school….how comical is that?

The two facing pairs of boots are mine and Webb’s at his first true country festival – me: the wannabe cowgirl in her dressy attire; him: the true country boy in his work boots.

The bright sneakers on the gravel path are an escape trip I made during work – getting in some much-needed exercise at Harlinsdale Farm in the middle of my day. It was such a good, fulfilling and invigorating experience.

These pictures take me from Music Row to Disney World to our cabin in the woods and the farm over the hill. They take me from South Carolina to Cincinnati, from a life in the city to a life with goats. Yes, they are silly. But what can I say? My feet are apparently my most prized accessory, and forbidding any tragic accident, they’re going to be with me until the day I die, helping me memorialize my greatest adventures and my most mundane moments in photographic form. And frankly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.