5 Resources Providing Open Source Images

 Image from https://www.flickr.com/photos/91779914@N00/2279892412 under CC 2.0

Image from https://www.flickr.com/photos/91779914@N00/2279892412 under CC 2.0

Sometimes people mistake me or others in my profession as the Copyright Police. And while it's true that we librarians may literally be the only people who care so passionately about adhering to copyright laws, I think most people out there - from teachers assembling a PowerPoint for a science lesson to students creating an infographic to instructional leaders presenting at conferences to bloggers who write for a living - they really do have some level of respect for intellectual property. Sometimes people get nervous with image use because they aren't sure if they really can use that image that they want to use, or if they go ahead and use it, they fret over whether they've cited it properly.

 *From Unsplash.com under CC0.

*From Unsplash.com under CC0.

My advice is simple, and it's the same regardless of your age, purpose, or profession. If you want to be absolutely certain that you aren't breaking any copyright rules with images, then you have two choices:

1. Generate your own images, with your phone/camera/computer/tablet/whatever,
2. Use an Open Source or Creative Commons image.

Here are five - of MANY - websites that offer searchable collections of free, Open Source (free to use) images:

The great thing about these is that they provide pretty nice quality images - some clip art, but most are actual pictures, and you may have to wade through a few ads or sponsored images (ahem, Shutterstock) they're still providing you with gobs of content and asking nothing in return, not even account creation. And even though they don't require you to cite under most Creative Commons licenses, in my librarian heart of hearts I'll always do it anyway, even if just to promote their website. It's the least we could do, right?

What are your favorite sources for free, Open Source images?

Shelby County Wine Trail

This post has been very...trying. For reasons neither I nor my friendly web fairies can explain, the Internet deleted the entire text of the post I first wrote on this topic. So I rewrote it.

But then....you guys, then it happened again. So I've had to walk away from this post for a bit before something like this happened:

 Image from Pixabay under CC0.

Image from Pixabay under CC0.

Despite having written this post three whole times now (plus that time in my head, so I guess we are at FOUR), I'm still probably going to forget something.

The thing is, The Captain and I love celebrating our anniversary and man, we do it up right. We spent our second anniversary touring old parts of Montgomery and taking in a Shakespeare Festival play, and for our 10th we went to New York. For our 12th we took a no-kids trip to Universal Studios (my gift to Matt was no stopping for pictures; his gift to me was not having to carry one single solitary thing around in that park, not even in my pockets...ah, the simple things in life!!). This year was our 14th, and we spent the first part of our day together slowly making our way around Shelby County to hit a few stops on the Alabama Wine Trail

The three vineyards we visited were:

We started off in North Calera at Vizzini Farms, and arrived just as the lunch rush was trailing off. They offered a free tasting and tour of the winery room, led by the owner who was gruff yet endearing in that old-man-from-the-North sort of way. He showed us pictures of his ancestors and told us all about his family's immigration journey and struggles to establish their business. We were very intrigued by a single bottle of wine he had on display that had a whole peach inside. When I asked how he got the entire peach into the bottle whole, he said "Well, I GREW it in the bottle - how else do ya think I'd have got it in there?!" He said it with a twinkle, though, and walked us out to one of his peach trees on which, sure enough, he has four or five other bottles affixed to the branches with tiny little budding peaches growing inside. Very limited edition, he said.

This was the tasting room and cafe, which we'd like to visit another time just for lunch. The back patio is frequently rented out for events, and one such was wrapping up during our visit as well.

From Vizzini we made our way further into the country part of Calera to Ozan Vineyards and Winery. Ozan was much different than we were expecting. It is on the smaller side but newer than any other Alabama winery we have ever visited. It was set on top of a hill, overlooking the vineyards. On a beautiful, clear day like the one we were enjoying, it was easy to forget we were in Alabama at all, or even possibly the country itself! We learned that Ozan has evening concert events from time to time, and if we had not already bought tickets for another event that night we would have stayed there the rest of the day. We arrived when they were transitioning from the afternoon tasting hours to setting up for their event, but we were still able to squeeze in a brief tasting and enjoyed a few minutes on the patio. With the breeze, beautiful weather, and nothing to see but lush green vines, we loved the calm and easygoing vibe that Ozan provides its visitors. We definitely plan to go back and try a few other of their many award-winning wines.

From Ozan we drove over to Harpersville, where we visited Morgan Creek Winery. The fun fact about this place was that we toured it on our first anniversary as part of a package deal with a local Bed and Breakfast (also when we discovered that, though quite lovely for some, the B&B world is just not for us...we are just not the kind of people who want to hang out with strangers when we're on vacation). The Morgan Creek owners have made lots of great changes in the past 13 years, and we even got to see them setting up for a summer wedding out on the lawn as well as pictures from other events on the digital display playing in the tasting room. We enjoyed some time on the front porch by the fountain, just chatting and appreciating the view.

From Harpersville we headed back to Bham for the Alabama Symphony Orchestra's annual Sci-Fi Soundtrack Concert. The guest conductor was hysterical, and we learned all kinds of cool back-stories about some of the great Science Fiction films as well as all about the theremin, a bizarre instrument that is electronically-based but played without actual physical contact. The theremin is what they used in old horror movies to make that odd wavy-like sound. The ASO even brought in a special guest, an expert theremin player, who talked about the instrument's history and then demonstrated how to play it. It was so strange and yet so awesome all at the same time. We had a lovely time on our first visit to the Symphony, but this time we had an absolute blast. Maybe because this time we knew when to clap

Our 14th anniversary was pretty simple, but it was low-key and calm...exactly what we needed. There are links below for more info if you and your honey or your BFFs want to check out any of the wineries we visited.

Vizzini Farms Winery - Calera, Alabama

Ozan Vineyard and Winery - Calera, Alabama

Morgan Creek Vineyards and Winery - Harpersville, AL

Alabama Wine Trail

Our kind of camping...

Matt has been after me to go camping for years. YEARS. "Let's go camping!" he said, time after time. "It will be fun!" he said. But I'm just not a camping kind of lady. I mean, the bugs. And the utter void of climate control. And all the gear. And the snakes. Sweet baby Moses, the snakes.

My Pearl Girl isn't a camper, either. The bugs swarm her, for one thing. And also for a child who was born on the Equator, she has a ridiculously low tolerance for heat. The Captain and Sassafras have camped before at the local state park, and I mean really camped as in the primitive kind of camping. But that is not for me, not even one little bit.

But we tried it recently, this camping thing. We tried it in a way that was a compromise between Matt's kind of camping (Tent in the snake-ridden wilderness) and my kind of camping (Hotel. Suite, please): RV camping.

The five of us plus our gigantic dog loaded up over Spring Break and headed to Stone Mountain, Georgia for a week of family fun and togetherness. I had studied up on RV camping and had pinned a lot of pinny-things in hopes to make the week as enjoyable as possible. Some of those were valuable and others...notsomuch.

You know, one thing I'll never understand about all of you Happy Campers is why you find such joy in toting a lite version of your whole kitchen out to the wilderness. Camping prep is hard, and that's why I don't understand why it's so enjoyable for so many. Vacation shouldn't be hard, man. Vacay should be EASY. It's the law.

The first thing I realized was that it takes time to settle in to an RV. There were unavoidable reasons for this, but the way things turned out we had to just dump bag after bag of stuff in the thing, convince Jericho this house on wheels was OK for him to jump up in, convince Sweet Love to get in her car seat even though it was confusing for her to have to ride in a car seat strapped to the side of a kitchen, and hit the road. I needed time to settle in, but instead just played the same round of hide and go seek with every single item I had need of over the next few days.

Once we got on the road, I noticed was that the RV - I like to name things, so we'll call him Rob - Rob was N-O-I-S-Y. Matt drove while the girls and I chilled in the back, but the word chill is actually a total lie there. There was 0 chilling in the back of that rattletrap RV. Rob's kibbles and bits complained noisily against every single bump in the road and (you people know I'm already deaf) we basically yelled simple phrases at each other, followed by "huh?" for hours. What a delight that was.

Add to that the fact that Sassafras was out of sorts and crying that her ear hurt. Sass, who has had maybe two ear infections in her entire 9 years, was crying of ear pain and had a fever. I would stagger down the "hall" to Rob's back "room," try to talk to the peds' nurse, be completely unable to hear her, drop the call, repeat. THAT was the cherry on top of our delightful little joyride. 

Now, all of this was not helping my opinion of camping as a family activity, but after arriving to the Stone Mountain campground, things improved drastically. We got settled in, had a prime spot near the bath house, playground, dog park, and beach volleyball court/huge sand pit. We had our own grill, deck, and fire pit. We were just a few miles away from historic Stone Mountain, and spent a few hours one day checking that out.

One of the most significant parts of Camp Prep was figuring out what and when and how all of these people + dog were going to eat. I was also semi-stressed the whole time because the refrigerator wasn't cooling with, like, exact efficiency. 

The Pinterest proved really helpful with some tried and true camping recipes, and that part (the food, because of course) was one of the most fun parts. We came up with all sorts of fun and inventive ways to cook all of the things.  

 My three + some random kid who kept showing up at our campfire.

My three + some random kid who kept showing up at our campfire.

 Lots of sweet time with the J-Man! Our Jericho, I tell you, he is the most chill, most precious, and sweetest dog ever. He was calm most of the time, except for the rare moments when some random stranger man would ease up on his girls and THEN, oh man, he was not having it. This dog is Captain-approved!   

Lots of sweet time with the J-Man! Our Jericho, I tell you, he is the most chill, most precious, and sweetest dog ever. He was calm most of the time, except for the rare moments when some random stranger man would ease up on his girls and THEN, oh man, he was not having it. This dog is Captain-approved!   

It was so nice, though. Just to hang out and sit around in the peace and quiet, walk around and sniff it all in, and read for hours. 

 Steak and potatoes! 

Steak and potatoes! 

So there you have it. We finally figured it out...our kind of camping. 

Why fit in when you were born to stand out? - Dr. Seuss

Though much more common these days, back in the 2008 day, when we began our adoption process, we were considered an anomaly. It was strange enough to most people that we were pursuing adoption as a means of expanding our family when we already had a biological child, but add to that the fact that we were intentionally seeking to parent a child of another race was mind-boggling to so many. Rather than being encouraged, the two questions we would get right off the bat were “But WHY?” and “But what in the world would you do with her HAIR?”

They “why” question didn’t bother us, and was easy to answer. The hair question did bother us, not because it wasn’t easy to answer but just because it wasn’t easy to answer without the heavy use of sarcasm. Because obviously, yes, we are about as white as white can get, but we are also not idiots. I was not born understanding nor raised to know exactly how to care for the hair and skin of someone of another ethnicity, but I am both willing and eager to ask for help from those who are the experts: black people and professionals trained in the care of all types of hair. So this question bothered me not because it didn’t have a simple answer, but that so many people considered it a legitimate hindrance to transracial adoption.

Because, yes, hair is important and an essential part of who a person is, regardless of race. But is hair that is different from yours really a reason to leave a vulnerable child as an orphan? “Yeah, I see those starving children who have no parents and no one to protect them or advocate for them or love them, but nah…think I’ll pass. I just don’t know how to fix their hair.” Bless.  

 About a month and a half after we met our beautiful little bald-headed baby girl.

About a month and a half after we met our beautiful little bald-headed baby girl.

Hair is important. Hair in the black community is considered a hot-button issue because of the history of racism in this country (yes, that article is BBC-UK but I like it anyway because it’s thorough). My Pearl Girl’s African orphanage shaved their babies’ heads on the reg as a cultural tradition (and to ease caring for so many children). In that country, even teenage girls keep their hair shaved as part of the schools’ dress code. So when we first met her, she was almost totally bald. My goal – then and now – was/is to keep Pearl’s hair as healthy as possible (natural products, no chemical treatments, etc.) until she is old enough to make up her own mind about how she wants to style her hair. Pearl’s hair also grows very slowly, is 4C on the hair texture chart, is extremely thirsty, and has weak edges. We have tried several methods of styling over the last five years and her favorite (and mine) is to moisturize well, detangle, and then leave it loose and free. She typically wears a head band (her sensory needs dictate that it must be soft), but on days she doesn’t feel like the band she wears earrings.

In some pockets of the Birmingham-metro area we see lots of other little black girls wearing their hair loose and natural, and in others there are none. Though we see this natural hair trend growing, Pearl’s hair looks different than many other black girls her age…and I have caught some heat about that in the form of the side-eye, unsolicited advice, and Lord help us if we have to go in the Wal-mart after a long day of playing at school.

One online community (of several) I subscribed to a few years ago that advertised support for transracial families is disagreeable to any kind of hair style that is not “typical” of black American children. There are frequent frantic submissions of parents wondering if their kids’ hair looks black enough. I understand their reasoning but question the obsession over what makes a hair style “black enough.”

Is it really honoring to the black culture or culture of adoption to pour all your parenting efforts into making sure a child looks “enough?” Or is there a way to honor those cultures within their current confines while also allowing room for the expectation of the culture’s growth and evolution over time?

Those are big questions to which I don’t have the answers. I will not speak for the black community or the adoption community. I will only speak for the Team Wilson community.

One of our goals as parents is to raise these little girls up to be who THEY were created to and choose to be, rather than shaping them after someone else’s ideology of what makes them black enough or white enough or girl enough. It is not in our nature to look to other people to determine what we like about ourselves, and I love that we are starting to see that in our kids as well.

Recently Pearl Girl was asked to describe some of her favorite things about herself. The first? That she likes her short hair. The second was that she is from Africa, and the third was that she is adopted. We have a long way to go before all these little birds are out of the nest, but for now, even our shy little Pearl values who she IS, not who anyone thinks she is supposed to be.

And that is more than enough.

Remember that scene in Castaway?

Do you remember that scene in Castaway when Tom Hanks finally, painfully sparked a fire and it changed everything about his relationship with the island and he danced all around yelling to nobody in particular just for the sheer joy of it? "I! I made fire! Me! I! Fiiiirrrre!" All while banging his chest and shouting to the heavens? 



Well, I just did that (or I had just done that when I started this blog post). But not for fire.

See, I had been in a battle of epic proportions with a broken toilet that whole miserable week. It was an exceptionally crazy week, with a hundred more things on my plate than I actually could accomplish, way too many non-negotiables colliding, and at that moment The Captain was away in Honduras doing amazing things. Part of his crazy wonderful new job is to travel a bit, help poor kids get sponsored, and show people the reality of how well the sponsorship program works in each country. It's a super crazy cool opportunity and aligns so perfectly with our family's desire to help kids in crisis and to help impoverished families remain intact. Obviously adoption is a big part of our life and our passion, but we believe that poverty should never be the reason a child is relinquished for adoption. 

So when he is away in whatever state or continent doing these amazing things, I try my very hardest to keep him from worrying about or being distracted by all the inevitable crazy random stuff that just tends to happen here when a parent is out of town. Say, like, when Child 3 has basically been pitching fits in all her waking hours for a solid four days...or, when the A/C goes out in my car and the Wilson ladies have been roasting due to the sun's decision to randomly crank that heat up...or, when all three children wake up crying/gagging/or complaining of some ailment when I have an especially important day at work...or when we've had to make not one but two office visits to the pediatrician in a 3-day span, etc. These things and more can and will happen every single time one of us is away. So while HIS part is to go and do amazing things there, MY part is to keep it all together here and that's just how it works. 

Back to the toilet. 

The toilet picked a fight with the wrong lady that week. I don't mean to overwhelm you people with my technical toiletry jargon, but the little strappy thing that connects to the push-down thing and lifts up the big round flapper thing at the bottom to let all the water out? Well, that little strappy thing broke. I rigged it a few times by pushing the strappy thing through the arm thing, but it wouldn't hold. Too short. Then for the next day I just pulled it up manually every time someone used that toilet, but that whole dance got old real fast. By Wednesday I would have paid you $500 for a whole new toilet if that's what you said I needed. 

But on THURSDAY, I went to Lowe's. And I found the plumbing aisle (Lowe's has the best signage, y'all, they really do). And I studied those bins until I found a new piece that had the same strappy thing that was flying all over the inside of my turlet like a dancing windsock at a used car lot. And I gave them my $4, and I drove straight home and I showed that toilet who was boss. I turned off the water, drained the tank, took out the old strappy/flapper thing, and installed the new and improved (and flaming red, which was kind of like cool new turlet bling since all its other innards are white) strappy flapper thing. I turned the water back on, refilled the tank, and flushed that toilet over and over and over just so it would know who was the boss of it. 

It was undoubtedly one of the proudest moments of my adult life. I won. I! I fixed the turlet! Turletttt!!!



I felt like Rosie the Riveter. This won't be the last of our random home emergencies that pop up at the worst moments, but winning that battle gave me a little reassurance that we can do this. 

This all might seem very silly to you smart people who can fix a turlet flapper strappy thing in your sleep, but it was so nice for me, in the thick of such an endlessly challenging week, to figure a hard thing out. It felt so good to whoop a problem with nothing but tenacity and my $4 fire-engine red toilet jewelry.