There are two stories behind the name Birchtree Photography. One is quick and simple, and I often tell it because it’s the easiest explanation. The other story is much longer, more complicated, and more personal. I don’t often share that one because I know it’s difficult to explain and perhaps hard to understand. At least, for me it is. It involves memories from childhood and experiences literally foreign to most Americans. I know I’m not the best with words, but I feel like telling the story on my blog will help me to sort it all out in my head. We’ll see…
So, you’re forewarned, this series of posts will be more personal in nature than my usual entries. You’re not likely to find interesting photography techniques or tips for wedding planning in them. And if you skip these in your reader, I won’t be offended (mostly because I won’t know if you did). But for those of you who do manage to muddle through them, thanks in advance for reading.
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Part One: Moscow Does Not Believe in Tears
We exited the plane and shuffled our way to the custom’s officers, moving as a mass of surging people, exhausted from long flights and stale air. Then we stopped and waited for what seemed like hours to my eight-year-old mind. Dull, dim lights hung from a honeycomb-patterned ceiling, offering bleak comfort to travel-weary bodies. The dark mass slowly trickled through customs, as stern faces stared at you and your documents, your fate in their hands.
Finally, we were through. Our bags, surprisingly, also made the journey unscathed, and we loaded them into a friend’s car who was there to pick us up. How I longed to look out the window as we drove to our new home…but sleep overtook me and I remember nothing but darkness.
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My family moved to Moscow, Russia when I was eight-years-old to be missionaries. Those were my first impressions.
by mary
Nicole - I’m with Kara 🙂 Will read!
marfa - Should be good fun. Ah, how well I remember that ceiling. I think it’s the one really clear detail I remember from that time. And being deliriously tired. And a white Lada. Or was it a Volga? It’s amazing seeing this photo after so many years – how well I can remember those paths and the surrounding area! Can’t wait to see what you put up next!
Kate Miller - I was wondering what it was that brought you and your family to Russia. That’s awesome!
Kara - I remember that ceiling… also, these would be the posts that I will be reading, as opposed to your technical photography posts 😉
Eileen - I’m really interested as well!! I have wondered where the name came from and this sounds like the beginning of a great story. P.S. You ARE good with words! I recall that from speaking with you and now reading your writing.
Lindsay Miller - Mary, I never knew that you’d been to Russia, much less missioned there! I’m really looking forward to reading the rest of this story!