Living a life in the southern sunshine and salt air. Savoring life's sparkling moments in pictures and words. Running on faith, caffeine, and adrenaline.
There’s not much that could persuade me to cut my Italy trip short and return to the states. But when my dear friend of nearly twenty years finally said yes to one of the best men I know, I happily rearranged my summer travel plans to attend their wedding.
At last.
In my life, I have been blessed with the gift of great friendships and count Laura among that treasured list.
Kathy, Annmarie, Laura, & Courtney
If you know Laura and Eric, you know that individually they are each brilliantly smart, thoughtfully kind, wonderfully witty, and fearlessly adventuresome. Yet, together they are even more extraordinary. A sum far greater than its parts. Together their brightly shining stars align, enriching the lives of those they love, and reminding us all of how powerful and beautiful love and life can truly be.
Congratulations Laura and Eric!
Hi there! I am Annmarie, the professor, writer, and photographer behind Postcards and Prosecco. When I’m not at the university , there’s a good chance I’m off on an adventure of some sort, looking, listening, and learning from the shared experiences of others and their authentic stories. Before I became a professor, I was a broadcast journalist and came to understand and adore the power and beauty of storytelling through images and words.
As a storyteller, I view the world with a love of the literary and a flare for the visual. Communications remains my passion, my craft, and my expertise. When done well, the ability to effectively communicate embodies art, draws us together, and empowers change. And leaving the world a little better, is something I think we are all called to do.
You’re welcome to take a look around and read my travel postcards. Here I’ll share the stories of my life in pictures and words and look for the lessons in la dolce vita. Journey with me as I navigate my way through the adventures of this beautifully imperfect life.
I’ve spent my entire life surrounded by water. The grand lady of them all, the Chesapeake Bay is the first body of water I’ve ever loved. She’s captured legendary explorers that have written far more eloquently than I about her beauty, wealth, and substance. To treasure the Chesapeake is a birth right of sorts coursing throughout the veins of the children of the fair state of Maryland. And for those like me, scattered throughout the world, the Chesapeake remains the measure of maritime beauty. Ask any Marylander, and I am confident they can wax poetically about the bay, summer days of their childhood shuffling through the mucky water, waiting impatiently on a splintered wooden dock for a sign of life in a rusty old crab trap. I am certain one of the reasons I love living in northeast Florida is because of the two great bodies of water, the Atlantic Ocean and the St. Johns River, that encircle my everyday. Yet, it the Chesapeake who will forever hold a special place in my heart.
But now, I must confess, I have a new love. He is unlike anything I have ever seen before. With a rocky coastline and a white washed façade, this Greek is an epically stunning beauty. In all fairness, I have experienced bodies of water that have brought me great joy. Childhood summers in the fierce surf of the Atlantic Ocean venturing into the swift and dangerous undertow of Rehoboth Beach, the pale salty turquoise of the Gulf of Mexico as an overly confident bikini clad co-ed, the powerful, cold, and daunting Pacific Ocean while traveling on a motorcycle through the hills of Santa Barbara. And while it has happened in the past, I wasn’t prepared this.
Mykonos Blue
He is different. And I did not expect to fall so suddenly for this diminutive little Greek. Just the sound of his name, Mykonos brings a smile to my lips. I am defenseless against his beauty. His body of water is the bluest blue I have every seen. Somewhere between midnight and cobalt with a glimmer of sapphire, he reigns supreme. Yet he remains completely transparent, refracting sunlight as hypnotically as a stained glass window. This hue, Mykonos Blue, as I’ve come to call it, is mesmerizing and making it nearly impossible to turn away.
Stairway to heaven. Close enough it’s Mykonos, Greece.
I know I am not the first to fall for this charmer. The entire city is designed to enhance his beauty. The white washed buildings stand in simple contrast to his regal blue elegance. The turquoise trim on the shutters and railings throughout the town emphasize his brilliantly deep dark shade. And while Ulysses had his Sirens beckoning him back, I suspect it will be Mykonos that calls my name to return yet again and again.
A dream come true and my first sunset in the glorious Greek Isles
I remember the frantic pace of the morning as if it were yesterday. The backpack and breakfast, the box-pleated jumper and bike shorts, and the navy and white saddle shoes to carry her through kindergarten.
The shoes were special, an early indicator that this raven haired child was a product of the verdant greens of northeast Florida. The shoes she insisted upon having, and grew frustrated when I couldn’t make sense of her request. With the dramatic flare of a first-born self -assured daughter, she let out a sigh and exclaimed, “Mom, you know. The shoes the golfers wear.” Ah yes, the shoes the golfers wear. And that small exchange, at the tender age of five was one of the many ways Danielle let me know she had her own ideas about the world.
On this morning it was time to wear the saddles. With great pride she laced up her shoes and walked out of her room ready for her big day. As for me, no matter how early the morning begins, I always fall prey to the last minute rush. The hurried mix of adrenalin and panic coupled with disbelieving glances at a clock that seemed a friend but a moment ago. And this morning was no different. The rush out the door with my camera, and a very sullen little sister, upset because she was too young to attend “the big school.” And yet I captured this sweet moment of excitement and confidence on film. With the morning sunshine lighting her way, she climbed into the car, smiled a glorious grin, and was off to school.
And now here it is, twelve short Augusts later. The saddles have long been retired, the uniform a detail of the past. But the same fevered and frantic pace returned again this morn. This time with black coffee and bag lunches, blow dryers and mascara, and another pair of new shoes, silver and blue Jack Rodgers, to christen the start of her final year of high school. This time it’s not the clock but the calendar I look at with disbelief. And again this morning, for what will be the last time, I captured the sunshine and smile, with a lump in my throat, as my beautiful daughter walks into the promise and possibility of this her senior year of high school.
Postcards and Prosecco 