I am not a sunbather, I am not functional midday. I do not like the echoing vibrations of sunlight sweating off the pavement or needles of heat penetrating my pores and expelling the moisture from my organs. It takes a special surrounding to rouse me from 11am AC hibernation, like a garden alive with rushing trickling ponds and flowers reminding me of pasta shells & trumpets. Continue reading “photobook | sunken gardens, st. petersburg”
Ambling within the Morikami pathway truly embodied the word amble. Relaxed. Unrushed. Beneath the intermittent sun-cloud dance so typical of Florida afternoons, I brushed past overhanging flower bushes, peeked through clusters of bamboo knocking against one another like hollow drums, clicked my camera when appropriate. Time was unhurried here, measured in footsteps and cycles of bright and shadow, the background music fountains and cicadas and the crunches of wild animals flitting or themselves meandering in the underbrush. Continue reading “photobook | fort lauderdale, pt 2: morikami museum & japanese gardens”
She’s one of my platonic soulmates. Authorial pal. The lean-on whenever ration should conquer my emotions. She’s the magnifying glass helping me zoom on problems and solutions. We tap our writing utensils in unison. Continue reading “photobook | hyde park village & bayshore”
Every time I plan a “luxurious” day-off breakfast for myself, the day of I abandon the notion entirely and prep some old reliable staple: a bowl of yogurt, warmed oatmeal, a frothy smoothie or a crisp peanut butter-slathered toast, as opposed to the stack of pancakes or maple-ribboned french toast I envision. I guess that points to my overall simplistic mindset, my fixation with routine, familiarity – a crutch sometimes but a comfort most. Occasionally, I gently lean against normality. I twist the juice out of the rinds until something a bit more imaginative comes up. Cue this, a bite of tangy citrus grated and squeezed into a normal day-to-day oat bowl. “Luxurious” enough. Certainly fulfilling enough. Continue reading “oats with mandarin, yogurt, blueberries & dark chocolate”
“A run into 2017” is probably a more appropriate title, considering my preferred method of mobility this morning. Happy New Year to all, old readers and new, casual virtual passersby and lovely familiars. We made it to a new string of 365. I’m glad to be here. January hangs at my elbows and as I write a coffee keeps me company in a local Starbucks (yes, between craft shops I also frequent a couple of my favorite locations of this ubiquitous chain). A slow bustle hums into my ears: a thump of instrumentals, a barista calling a name, an older gentleman licking his finger & flipping the ear of a newspaper corner. Tranquil. Continue reading “a walk into 2017”
Be still, and let the mountains whisk your worries beneath the snowdrifts or bury them beneath the roots of trees older than thought. Continue reading “Photo Journal | The Bergen Railway”
The one dream I penned into my bucket list which I thought the least likely to accomplish, was crossed off last night. Thank you, Mother Nature, for blessing me with your twinkling lights. Continue reading “Ethereal Lights in the Night Sky”
At some point last year – probably around this time, come to think of it – my mom and I were sat on the couch and scrounged up the topic of apple picking. Continue reading “Strawberry Picking”
As recently as a week ago, I sprawled myself on my bed at midnight churning the convictions that no one loved me, and perhaps my life was feeble, a waste of space, a ticking of the hours and nothing more.
Then, Monday happened. Continue reading “21”
CHRISTMAS ISN’T A SEASON – IT’S A FEELING.
-Edna Ferber Continue reading “Joy of the Season”