30 April 2009
thirty.
(stuck behind the most delightful van, and found this wonderful gentleman enjoying the outside in the evening hours)
today: morning weather reminded me of the ocean, the best morning walk, gardening and garment altering, a delightful little and the playground in bright sun, discoveries, and the most wonderful evening conversation with my dearest girl.
p.s. thank you for looking at these. they were hills and valleys. and for your lovely words that always mean so much.
29 April 2009
twenty-nine.
(i take photographs like this less because i think my feet are a good subject and more because i like to remember being certain places. and here is my flower-selling stranger)
today: morning gifts of precious words, all meals outside (the air and light have captured my heart), planting white flowers at my favorite place, watching the setting sun from our hilltop (dear matthew, how i do hate going there alone).
28 April 2009
twenty-eight.
(i went to cabbagetown with evan and shot black and white film and it felt like home)
today: watermelon for breakfast and for lunch, delightful things in the early afternoon, made things for you and you and you, walked around with a most wonderful gentleman (falling in love with tiny houses and little motorbikes) and two strawberry plants to make friends with my window box.
27 April 2009
twenty-seven.
today: i noticed my front yard irises have bloomed, a meal of watermelon, wrote and wrote and wrote, tried to have a patient heart, tried to be a blessing.
26 April 2009
twenty-six.
25 April 2009
twenty-five.
today: was busy and tiring and ended (perfectly) with the river. i want to show you my river! i want you to walk in it with me and to see my favorite fallen tree and the way he taught me to skip stones.
24 April 2009
twenty-four.
(even the flying things want to be in that golden light)
today: window-box flowers are too expensive. it will be lemon balm, rosemary, lavender and mint for this little lady. the most delightful memory of these four walls is waking up to blinding sunlight and seeing nothing but green outside my window.
23 April 2009
twenty-three.
(i didn't even touch my camera today and it felt alright)
today: i walked a jar of sunflowers (mary's favorite) to the moore's. it was the best part of today. overflowing with unexpected good things and discoveries of the best kind.
22 April 2009
twenty-two.
(my downtown sky and, i'm hardly complaining, but i've run across an alarming amount of abandoned furniture lately)
today: park picnics and wonderful grass, downtown in golden light, meeting a wonderful man and his shop of old things, dreams of 8mm films and seeing the world better, trying to be better and trying to be simple.
21 April 2009
twenty-one.
(i'm a bad little girl)
today: air that willingly reminded me of portland, early morning breakfast on the porch, designed light fixtures, fell in love with color schemes, watched slides of papa's, and everything was just delightful!
20 April 2009
twenty.
19 April 2009
ninteen.
18 April 2009
eighteen.
(a delightful gentleman, and birthday flowers that i can't stop looking at)
today: sleeping late, confused about the weather, strawberry cupcakes for breakfast, daydreams of forest installations and owning a shop of children's handmade things, hoping, a new to me sunshine yellow tea set and photographing laughable littles.
17 April 2009
seventeen.
(this is embarrassing. i should have photographed things today.)
today: i spent the morning and afternoon with wonderful littles (swinging and lying in good backyard grass and eating cupcakes on the porch), barefoot at the river and meeting old fishermen, perfect air and perfect warmth, and i photographed a lot of beautifully fancy people during the golden time of day.
16 April 2009
sixteen.
(i treated myself to a pack of polaroid film, today)
today: i became twenty, warm sun on my drowsy face, a beautiful lunch with the most precious ladies in my life, goodgood light, swingsets and laughter, heartwords and feeling loved beyond measure, feeling so glad to be alive.
i am in the midst of compiling a list of 20 things i want to do during my 20th year.
i've only 13 thus far:
1. pick blackberries in may, peaches in june, pears in august and apples in september
2. learn to throw pots
3. drive to the ocean in winter, again (i absolutely must do this annually)
4. learn 'avril 14th' on the piano
5. distribute disposable cameras to all my favorite littles (begging them to show me their world)
6. produce a short film
7. write a piece/photograph jimmy & mary moore
8. open an etsy shop (of light fixtures and mobiles and book sculptures and things)
9. plant things in honor of people who've moved my heart
10. sail; regardless of where or for how long
11. travel somewhere by train
12. complete a book of strangers
13. plant ranunculus bulbs in autumn.
p.s. thank you, for making this day as wonderful as can be. it was brimmingly full of big and small and quiet and overwhelming surprises that made my heart flutter, continuously.
15 April 2009
fifteen.
today: sleeping in, breakfast on the porch, a kind gentleman, horizontal to the sky in purple flowers, beautiful light.
14 April 2009
fourteen.
13 April 2009
thirteen.
(dear zola, that open book is a german dictionary from 1939. i was going to make a book sculpture out of it, but would you rather be able to use it? either way, it's yours.)
today: thrift store treasures, visiting the library and remembering that i love it, bad morning weather < good things, writing letters and listening to rain.
12 April 2009
easter sunday.
today: "who died eternal life to bring, and lives that death may die" resonating throughout the day, a seemingly endless supply of people i love and am thankfully related to, a seemingly endless supply of good food made by those same people, so many sweets, so many littles, the most beautiful light.
11 April 2009
eleven.
10 April 2009
ten.
(we sat by the window in orange light and he told me entire cities about himself. he shared tightly-held secrets through beautiful noise. i am so grateful.)
today: morning rain made me uncertain for the day, miles alone, sweet tea and gummy cherries, a new downtown to explore, beautiful people, and this gentleman.
09 April 2009
nine.
(my memory card was accidentally deleted by a little with good intentions of showing me the world through her eyes.)
today: partly clouded skies and even light (his favorite of course), sidewalk chalk, adventurous littles, ice cream and laughter, tree swings and soft backyard grass.
08 April 2009
eight.
07 April 2009
06 April 2009
six.
05 April 2009
five.
04 April 2009
four.
03 April 2009
three.
(mama says i used to run around the yard collecting handfuls of these. they are still wonderful to me. and i still love the shivers i get when i step on them, barefoot)
today: early morning brightness, being quiet, visiting with grandma, dark shadows and lens flare, the tallest green grass i have ever seen.
02 April 2009
two.
01 April 2009
one.
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