Category: Final Focus

Did you know it was once rumored that the streets of Boston were nothing more than paved cow paths? 

This was proved a myth, of course, but it’s still an interesting thought. 
And, giving consideration to the trajectories of our earliest transportation system, it does seem almost plausible.

Because that’s the thing about cow paths … they always lead somewhere beneficial to the cow …To shelter. To safety.  To water.  To greener grass … or the farmers feed lot.

They aren’t just mindlessly meandering. There is a means and method to these wayfaring passages.

The “cow path theory” in the modern business world has given these well-beaten paths a bad wrap by associating them with a mindless “follow the leader” approach to managing employees. 
But despite the negative connotations associated with these paths, they are actually inherently intelligent “maps.” 

These “paths of least resistance” aren’t aimless … they are instinctual. 
They follow the natural slope of the land to help the animal conserve energy. Through woods and tall grass these well-beaten paths offer an unobstructed view of what lies ahead to keep them safe.

They also give insight into their interdependent nature.  They trust the path the way we trust a map. They inherently trust that the trail carved out for them by generations before is good … so they follow it. However, if the map or path no longer agree with the ground, they adjust, and a new path is formed.

Personally, I think we can find a deeper understanding to the overall design for our lives, too, through these cow paths. 

Generally speaking, we can and should trust the rudimentary path our parents and future generations have charted out for us. Our lives are all different, but the same. They may look different, but they should be pointed in the same direction with the same eternal objective in the end. 
Their life journey will never be our journey, but they have left behind guides and signposts for us to follow to keep us from wandering too far off course.  They have carved out a preliminary path to keep us on solid ground and keep us pointed in the right direction. 

But as times change and the earth evolves, if we should ever find the map no longer agrees with the ground we’re on … don’t rewrite it entirely or abandon the map completely … just adjust it a bit and carry on so the next generation will know the way and can follow our path down the “narrow road.” 

(Which, in my mind, looks a lot like a cow 
path)

– Mackenzie Free –

Wife, mother, photographer & current resident of the unassumingly magical town of Steele, Alabama

I decided years ago to just let my children ‘be’.
‘Be’ whoever they are, however they are. 
I decided to let them be wild or tame… soft or loud … friendly or shy … serious or silly. 
I decided to let them draw dragons and pick flowers, play with dolls and dump trucks, climb trees, catch frogs and take mud baths.

I let them be right, I let them be wrong.
I let them be bold and meek, scared and brave, emotional and unmoved.

I let them go barefoot and pick their own clothes.
I let them fall in line or be daringly different. 
I let them try, and l let them fail.
I let them take risks and learn to trust themselves.

And it’s an amazing thing to witness … the miraculous metamorphosis of their “becoming.”
There is so much beauty and freedom found in watching our children become who they are.

– Mackenzie Free –

Wife, mother, photographer & current resident of the unassumingly magical town of Steele, Alabama

I sometimes wonder the secrets these old quilts keep or the stories they would tell if they could speak …

What hand-me-down wisdom would they impart?
Would they speak to us of love?
Of heartbreak?
Of loss?
Would they tell us their truths and testimonies?
Or wrap us in words of encouragement and hope on hard days?

It’s hard for an artist to separate their heart from hand. Feelings naturally find their way to fingertips.
Emotions inevitably sewn into stitches and pieced together into a patchwork of patterns bound together to cover and comfort future generations. And perhaps that’s the real beauty of them …
Quilts do more than keep us warm. They hold history. They keep us connected. They are a bridge between the past and the present.
A patchwork of patterns and colors pieced together by day or under lamplight glow by hands future generations would never know.

In the photo: Colt Swindall, son of Dylan and Amber Swindall

– Mackenzie Free –

Wife, mother, photographer & current resident of the unassumingly magical town of Steele, Alabama

Yes, magic is real … but it’s not always what you think.

It’s not make believe or in movies or manufactured by Disney. Magic isn’t manmade,

bottled up and mass-produced. 

It’s made in the heavens and sent down to earth … silently… subtly … secretly. 

It’s sown into the soil and grows from the ground.

It’s hidden under the rocks in the riverbanks and swims in the sea. 

It serenades us from the trees and the forest floor.

It blooms in every color and brings us the bees and butterflies.

It grazes on grass and hides in holes and sometimes, it’s so small it can only be seen in the dew

of the early morning light.

Go outside, listen and pay close attention.

Magic is out there. It’s everywhere. But you have to want to see it

**The magic is all around us in St. Clair County – from mountains, valleys, lakes and creeks to wide open pastures and dense forests.

Discover and cherish the magic we have for yourself and generations to come.

– Mackenzie Free –

Wife, mother, photographer & current resident of the unassumingly magical town of Steele, Alabama

I never knew I could feel so much affection for a house as I do this one. I’ll admit, I love it far more than I should.

Maybe it’s because of the splendid confluence of generations that gather here any given Sunday after church to share a meal. Maybe it’s the small gang of unruly cousins that can be found climbing the pear tree in the front yard or chasing one another through the grass at family gatherings. Maybe it’s because this is a place where people sit on the front porch in the mornings and wave at passing cars and retire to the back porch in the evenings to break beans or shell peas.

Maybe it’s because of the beautifully kept yard and garden and the wealth of knowledge that comes from those who tend to it.

Maybe it’s because the house always seems to smell of pound cake or cornbread and there is, most reliably, always sweet tea in the fridge. Maybe it’s because this isn’t a life I grew up with, but this house and the people who call it home have raised me in ways they will never fully understand. And they have given my children the most splendid, idealistic, memories of childhood.

They will look back on their time spent here as if it were a movie or a dream … the kind of memories that move in slow motion and seem to be bathed in golden light.

Or maybe it’s not really about the house at all. Maybe this house just represents a life that feels nostalgic … a life so many others remember from their past and have forgotten still exists in some places.

… It still exists here. This house is more than a house, it’s a life force. It almost has a heartbeat.

… And it is the place my heart will forever feel the most at home.

**Dedicated in loving memory to Coy Free, whom we miss dearly & called this house home.

And to Rubye, who loved him faithfully for 68 years … and lives there still.

– Mackenzie Free –

Wife, mother, photographer & current resident of the unassumingly magical town of Steele, Alabama

Life is overwhelmingly beautiful. And terrible.  And wonderful. And messy. And short. … But rarely is it predictable. Most people don’t get to the end of their lives and think to themselves, “Well, that went exactly as planned” just before they pass on.

That’s the thing about life….  Some things just happens to us. We aren’t always prepared. Things don’t always go according to plan. Because life often has an itinerary all its own. We can cultivate adaptability and learn to embrace changes in life… or get pulled along begrudgingly.  Either way, change is an unconquerable reality. 

Sometimes we get to choose it and welcome change eagerly.  Sometimes we are painfully unprepared and resist. And sometimes we can get caught in the space between. 

The space between ready and not. The space between changing direction and staying the course … between the problem and solution … between the known and unknown … between holding on and letting go.

It’s here, on the cusp of change, that life lends us rest and clarity is keenest if we lean in and allow it. It’s here, in that blank space between the chapters of our lives, that we can pause, take a deep breath and ready ourselves for the next thing.  So if you should ever find yourself caught here, in the space between…anxiously waiting… don’t lose heart.  These pauses aren’t empty voids … they are life’s way of holding space for our head and our heart to align and embrace. … sometimes we might find the space between can be our saving grace. 

– Mackenzie Free –

Wife, mother, photographer & current resident of the unassumingly magical town of Steele, Alabama