Today, I love.

Bright green and clean white. 
Surprisingly warm, {almost} spring scented air.
Walks when needed, longer than expected. 
Telephone calls. 
Hurried studies.  
French tests.
Promises.  

The thing about art is..

You’ve got to love what you are doing.
{Not just the process, but the finished product.}

It’s too hard otherwise.

And it seems, at times, one is quite in tune with her own soul,
and suddenly
completely at odds with it. 

Such a flighty thing…

see what I mean

Illustration by Grady McFerrin

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Once, my soul most identified with the harmonica for its mobile melodies. That’s when I had wild hair and a wilder heart. 

Don’t think twice, it’s alright. 

tiptoe. softly.
and only whisper.

water for the tea, 
under a blanket, curl your toes.
hushed steam rises.  

with gratitude for quiet light. 

Mary Ellen and I had an adventure in the real world last night. 

20 May 2012

(Source: imprevia, via afieldguide)

Today, I love.

Freshly blanketed snow, the purest of whites. 
Whole wheat raspberry ricotta scones for breakfast, with strings attached.
Fisherman’s wool, newly crocheted, promising to give warmth. 
Resting in misunderstandings, laughing them off.
Sounds of teeth being brushed.  
Words being shared.
Morningtime.  

Confession

I have a new years resolution: To drink deeply of this life I’ve been given. And then I’ll share it, peace by peace. 

On this particular day, I met friends at the very coffee shop we were at the night before. We listened as a weirdo with a beardo played us songs with an electric guitar. Soon following, words were written on broken coffee stirrers for a fun game with words. My cheeks grew rosy and photos were taken upside down.