One of the things I loved most about volunteering was listening to the stories people told. My Japanese was more than a little rusty after six-ish years of disuse, so it took me a while to get back into conversing. But because I understood better than I could speak, I spent a lot of time listening. Using context clues, body language, and watching other peoples’ responses, I could even often glean most of what speakers of regional dialects and elderly people were saying– which is always a challenge.

Most of the stories we heard were terribly, terribly sad. Beyond the destruction in its strange half slate-wiped-clean state, the stories were what weighed heavy on my heart. No matter how quickly the debris is cleared, it will be a long time before these people are healed.

This post has a lot of stories to go along with pictures, and I’ve paired each snippet with a corresponding photo as a caption. I’ll leave it at that and let the pictures and captions do the rest of the talking. This is the last of my tsunami photos… I’ll be sharing a couple from my second hometown, Tokyo, after this, and an engagement session I photographed with an ex-pat Seattlite couple there. If these photos or the stories therein touched you, please share this post, and the photos in Part One.

The center of the damage in Ishinomaki City, where the huge wave blasted through buildings along the coast

An elementary school opposite the coast in Ishinomaki city, which was destroyed by the tsunami and burned by oil that leaked from a tanker swept inland. Students were safely evacuated before the wave hit.

A small marina in Onagawa, downhill from temporary tsunami refugee housing. Many residents depended on the fishing industry for income. Now this marina and others are ruined by water and quake damage and cannot support the industry.

Yuria, 4, talks with a volunteer about what happened on the day of the tsunami. She was at daycare and her parents were at work when the wave came and swept up from the marina to destroy her house.

Little Yuria lives in temporary housing with her parents and grandmother. She doesn’t seem traumatized by the events of the past year, even when we walk by the gravel pit that stands where her house once did.

This elderly woman was swept away when the wave hit Onagawa. She survived by swimming in the frigid waters. Now she lives in temporary housing and is making zorii (right) to sell with the other “aunties” and “grandmas”

A lone corporate building stands where there was once a vibrant community. In this area, the wave was funneled inland by hills, causing it to be up to 60 feet high. This building has windows blown out on the top floor.

A tsunami-damaged TESCO gas station. The hillside was washed away by the wave and the September typhoon, which devastated the already damaged area and fragile soil

Right, the devastation in Oshika whaling town from above and, left, earthquake damage to an unrepaired section of road

Led by a local resident, volunteers walk down a washed out beach to survey the tsunami damage

Looking up from the raised beach at an apartment building wrecked by the wave. The water reached the top of its second story.

A fisherman stands on a sea wall and looks out at the ocean, his friend and his enemy.

Despite having to sort through the wreckage of their own homes and being up to their knees in mud, many people we met were all smiles, glad to meet the day

Washed in from sea, the wreckage of local houses rests above an ocean sea wall in unsorted piles of debris. A volunteer takes in the scene.

Pieces of a roof ripped from a Japanese home and deposited by the March tsunami on the beach amid car parts, clothing, dishes, and other debris

Left, the center pole of the roof of the area’s oldest home (made with traditional joinery) destroyed by the March 2011 tsunami. Right, a soiled tatami mat (traditional flooring) washed up by the wave

A second of damaged coastline is home to debris and flotsam collected as water washed through homes and businesses and back out to sea. Most is too damaged to salvage.

A lone rubber boot, filled with mud and sea water. All of us wore rubber boots and gloves while volunteering, and no matter how careful we were, we ended the day with mud in our shoes and under our nails.

A man hunts for the gravestone of his family dog, near where his home’s foundation remains. He explains that he wanted to find the rock to reassure his daughter that it was still there, and that it is a special type of stone that is only found on a nearby island. Right, a hard hat rests on a foundation wall near his home.

A child’s bike, covered in mud, sits atop a pile of “non burnable” garbage collected from a washed-out area

Looking toward the beach, the remains of a residential area. Only foundations and detritus are left where Japanese homes once stood.

Newly painted fishing floats laid out to dry. We were asked to stencil these floats by a local fisherman in need of help.

Left, fishing floats laid out to dry after stenciling. Right, the remains of incense urns for a home Buddhist altar on the empty site of a bulldozed house.

Toys left by local children in the foundation of a wrecked building near the marina of a Japanese town. Note the newly graded road and reinforced sea wall in the background.

Amid smashed cement and torn-up rebar, a stray cat sits, begging for scraps.

A day’s catch of mackerel sits on the cracked marina near Ishinomaki, Japan

Fishing boats tethered at sunset in a marina near Ishinomaki, Japan

The unsafe local port/marina, cracked by the earthquake and nearly sunk by the tsunami, is scattered with rebar and wreckage and nearly floods at high tide.

A Japanese fire truck and fire station, casualties of the March 2011 tsunami. The fire truck, like a good portion of the tsunami-affected area, is covered in a tangle of fishing nets.

Rebar and smashed cement, along with sections of the old road, rest on part of the sunken pier in a small Japanese town

The sunken pier and ruined foundations of fishing outbuildings, framed by grass.

Today I wanted to share a few photos of the 16×24 canvases Eric and Erica ordered from their wedding photographs. Ironically, I received these canvases in the mail the day after I sent off all of our camera gear to Canon Professional Services for a yearly check, so I had to take pictures of them with my little PowerShot Elph. That thing just really can’t compete with the big dSLRs! So, excuse the quality of these photographs. I seriously loved on these canvases though… they were just gorgeous, high-quality, and perfectly assembled. Have a look!

A fisherman’s floats with the kanji for the family name sit unused outside a port near Ishinomaki, Japan. The area was a vibrant fishing and farming community that could not practice its industry during 2011.

It’s been a challenge for me to get through editing these photographs from my November trip to Ishinomaki, Japan. It’s not so much that the subject matter is emotional, thought it is, but that I struggled to feel that I adequately captured the experience of volunteering in a disaster area. There were a lot of things I saw that I just couldn’t photograph… or that simply didn’t come out in a way that I felt fairly represented the situation in Japan eight months after the tsunami. There were a lot of images I still feel just don’t mean much out of context. [NOTE: With that in mind, I'm going to provide captions for the images below.] And, simply, there was so much that I saw only through a car window, just barely able to gape, as we drove by.

I didn’t spend nearly as much time photographing as I did working. The work that we did wasn’t very conducive to cradling a camera either– mostly hard labor and restorations digging out overgrowth, debris, mud, and other detritus from the former sites of homes and farm fields. It was a lot of shoveling, wheelbarrowing, pulling up weeds, sorting, lifting, and searching. The big cleanup– rebuilding roads, salvaging boats and big debris, the demolition of buildings too damaged to be saved– is finished in some areas and well under way in other areas. Most of the towns and villages hit by the tsunami have simply ceased to exist, bulldozed into a state more reminisce of a vacant lot than a Japanese city. So where there once were tightly-packed communities teeming with farmers and fishermen, there are now desolate stretches of washed-out soil embedded with the bits and pieces of the lives that once called that area home.

It’s strange to see the coastline in this state of perpetual transition. In some ways, there has been remarkable progress. The Japanese Self Defense Forces have repaired and built new roads to make the area accessible to relief workers. Those who lost their homes have been given transitional housing. There are a variety of staple donations available to those who need them. There is no longer a search for the dead or missing. It is a time to repair and rebuild.

But… not everywhere CAN rebuild. Some areas of the coast sank more than four feet after the tectonic shift of the massive quake. These areas may be subject to tidal flooding (like large parts of Ishinomaki city), unstable soil, or simply unsafe for future building. The government has provided a stipend for those who have lost their homes, but it is often not enough money for a new piece of land and a new home. Where can they build? Land is at a premium in Japan.

Plus, there’s a whole level of unseen politic beneath the surface: What about those who still have their homes? They have mortgages, but they may not have jobs. The people in temporary housing can at least receive relief donations, but those who still have their homes cannot. This area had a vibrant fishing and farming industry, neither of which functioned at all during 2011. How are the remaining residents supposed to make income? Some are volunteering rebuilding the industry, but some have had to take other jobs in areas that weren’t ruined, leaving tension between them and those who are shouldering the burden. It’s this sort of thing that photographs can’t show.

What I did see were a lot of bizarre wide-open spaces where land that once often held scores of houses is now vacant. I saw wrecked and washed-out homes and schools in various states of decay and demolition. I saw memorials for the dead and for the missing. I saw lots, and lots, and lots of volunteers– some coming from hours away on tour buses over the weekend to spend Saturday volunteering and the night on the bus home. I saw strange portents, like the tiny wooden Shinto shrine that survived the flooding of a river delta where 27 homes did not. I saw the bits and pieces of lives destroyed, embedded in a thick layer of mud. I saw tragedy and destitution and hope being rebuilt. Eight months after the disaster, the horror is gone, but the sadness remains, haunting the quiet, vacant lots.

This post is as much for me as it is for you. Looking at these images helps me remember the important things in life, and not to get too bogged down in details. I hope they do the same for you.

An elementary school near the river bank that was completely covered by the wave. All students evacuated safely before the tsunami.

Clothing, dishes, roof tiles, and more debris removed from under the mud and millet in a field we cleared

Salvaged from beneath the mud in a field we cleared, this ping-pong paddle had a child’s name written on it. We cleaned it off with the hope of reuniting it with its owner or living relatives.

A car wrecked by the tsunami sits in a field near Ookawa, Japan

Brooms in an abandoned shed near Ookawa in Ishinomaki, Japan

My friend, Kyoko, who helped organize our volunteer effort in Ishinomaki, taking a break during field-clearing

Volunteers from our team take a break in the sun during a day spent clearing millet and debris from a farm field.

Volunteers clearing a field of millet and debris so it can be re-plowed for use in 2012

Tsunami damage to the inside of a Japanese home near Ookawa. Paper doors, futons, and wooden floors destroyed by the wave.

Persimmons growing near Ookawa, Japan

Traditional Japanese hinamatsuri doll sitting in a damaged shed outside Ookawa

A local farmer standing in front of his field in Ookawa, which we cleared earlier of debris and overgrowth that day

Lettuce growing on a family farm plot near homes that have been repaired from tsunami damage in Ookawa.

Memorial for the lives lost in a residential area where 27 houses were washed away and only a muddy flood-plain remains. On the right, the cement shell of a home shrine in the mud.

A flower memorial at Ookawa elementary school, where nearly every student and teacher died during the tsunami.

Debris and garbage from the tsunami piled at the base of the slope near Ookawa elementary school, where evacuations were supposed to take place. Instead, teachers delayed evacuating before directing students to a nearby bridge, where they were struck by the wave.

Sunrise over Kinkasan Island from our cabin at the Oshika family campground. Oshika was closest to the epicenter of the tsunami and parts of it sank 3.9 feet and moved 17 feet south.

Fishing boats off the coast of Ishinomaki, Japan

Opposite a narrow beach, this neighborhood was washed away in the March 2011 tsunami. The small house in center frame washed off its foundation and settled there. It was demolished later that day.

Manhole cover in Onagawa, Japan, near temporary housing for tsunami refugees.

Older women among the Onagawa tsunami refugees make zorii slippers from old t-shirts to keep busy and fundraise for their community. The “aunties” and “grandmas” in temporary housing groups across the affected areas have taken up projects to support each other.

Kyoko learning to make zorii from old t-shirts with the Mama Supporters in Onagawa

A poster of Oshika, a whaling town in Ishinomaki, Japan, before the March 2011 tsunami. Notice the apartment building in the upper right and look for it in the next photo (center).

Oshika town in Ishinomaki prefecture after the tsunami. The apartment building to the right of the blue sign is the same one in the upper right of the “before” picture. Eighty percent of buildings in Oshika were destroyed.

Apartment building in Oshika, Ishinomaki prefecture, damaged by the tsunami wave.

A small boat, washed about 1km inland, rests at near an apartment complex in Oshika town

Clocks stopped at the time of the earthquake.

Bottles of beer, kitchenware, and other debris sorted and left behind at an apartment building in Oshika, where 80 percent of residences were destroyed.

The owner of a liquor store in Oshika selling bottles with labels damaged in the tsunami at a local flea market.

Life goes on, and a young boy celebrates his fifth birthday (the shichi-go-san ceremony) at Hiyori-yama Shine

I loves me some press! Check out Christen + Leigh’s Mauna Lani Bay Wedding on Broke Ass Bride. Christen is a kickass Broke-Ass blogger now, and she was kind enough to re-post her wedding photos as her introduction. Head on over there to say hi to her (and check out her awesome posts)!

A few frames from walking while our neighborhood was snowed in last week. I wish I’d brought my macro lens! I miss the snow.

Kadie and Doug wowwed us with their sweet, stylish, and budget-savvy wedding last September. Their wedding wasn’t just a coming together of loved ones, or the creation of a new family, it was also a homecoming of sorts for Doug, who had been away in California and then Oregon on residency most of the summer. When we took their engagement photographs at Cafe Vida, Molly Moon’s, and Gas Works Park it was the day before Doug returned to California for three months! In fact, it was only just after the wedding that he was able to return to Seattle to be close to his new wife. So this lovely, smile-filled day was very special for everyone.

While Doug got dressed at his family home, Kadie got ready at a really amazing rental house in West Seattle where her out-of-town family was staying. They then met at Interlaken Park, just across the street from Volunteer Park, where they had a very intimate friends-and-family-only wedding ceremony with a beautiful view of Lake Washington. One of their friends officiated while two stood by as Maid of Honor and Best Man and still another played beautiful, tearful ceremony music on the violin. Their Boston terrier, Bailey, watched with his “grandparents” as parents tied the knot.

We celebrated the gorgeous, Indian Summer day with wedding portraits at Gas Works Park on the Lake Union waterfront. The Seattle skyline from Kite Hill was pristine and colorful kites fluttered overhead as Kadie and Doug took a moment to soak up the sunshine and their newlywed status.

Their beachside reception was on the patio of a clubhouse at a private Lake Washington residence, where guests enjoyed wood-fired pizza and salads provided by Inferno Catering, delicious cake and cupcakes, and even the Molly Moon’s ice cream truck! It was the perfect way to spend a long, summer evening watching the sun set over the water. Congratulations again, Kadie and Doug!

Wedding Details:
Photographer: Persimmon Images
Ceremony Location: Interlaken Park
Reception Venue: Private residence
Wood-fired Pizzas: Inferno Catering
Cake: Creme de la Creme Bakery
Cupcakes: Molly Moon’s
Rentals: R&R Rentals
Flowers: Young Flowers

Ryan and Juliana celebrated their engagement with a portrait session at the beautiful Des Moines Marina. A little bit of rain (and, toward the end, a LOT of rain) couldn’t keep them from sharing their love. For those averse to photographs in the rain, I present this set as evidence that rainy-day photos can be both lovely AND 100% authentic to the true Pacific Northwest experience.

Here are a few favorites from their session.

We’re all puddle ducks here, what with 5 months of wet(ish) Winter weather, and I think most of us have somewhat of a soft spot for Seattle’s drizzly days. They say that a little rain never hurt anyone… and it certainly has never hurt our cameras! We once photographed an entire wedding day, outdoors, in the rain. Plus, I LOVE me a nice umbrella as a fun prop. So, come on, let’s get wet!

(One frame from tomorrow’s engagement session post.)

Instead of striving to do more in the New Year, I’ve decided just to be … more. By allowing time for quiet, and self-reflection, I hope to grow more than if I just fill my days with more plans and meetings and goals and to-do lists. That’s not to say that my days won’t be filled with those things (it’s kind of a by-product of life) but even if they are, I hope remember to focus instead on the important of quietude and not get bogged down in the little details.

I have been quite ill the last two weeks, starting on Christmas Day. And while that’s been a disappointment, it’s also been a blessing, because it has forced me to take things slow. I often speed breakneck even into my procrastination, so really being slow is a welcome change. I don’t relish taking up what’s been put on the back burner, but with time, all things will come. My challenge is to give myself permission to fail just as I have given myself permission to succeed. And, of course, to meet each new obstacle with grace and serenity… with peace in my heart.

In 2012, I’d like to get to know myself better and, by proxy, for you to get to know me better, too. I want to meditate, do yoga, take a ton of photos for the joy of it, shoot film, go on dates, read books with my husband, and throw the ball for my dog while think about nothing but how happy he looks while he’s fetching it. I’d like to share some of journey here: to be more personal. But, you know, all these things are just little things I’d like to do and maybe I will only do some of them. Maybe I won’t do any of them. But I give myself permission not to. I give myself permission to just… exist. And that is peace and perfection.

Wishing a very peaceful New Year to you, too.

Merry Christmas and a wonderful winter holiday to you and yours from the team at Persimmon Images. (That’s us, Kat and Justin!)

THANK YOU, each and every one, for making this a wonderful year. We love you all, and we can’t wait to celebrate the New Year with you!

Check out this lovely video just sent from our album company, Cypress Fine Handmade Albums as their holiday greeting. In it, you can see just how lovingly and painstakingly they make all of their museum-quality albums. Straight down to hand-cutting the pages and mats. We’re so proud to support them and to offer their handcrafted, eco-friendly albums, folios, and boxes in all that we do!