little girl,

with eyes so bright.
reminded me today that our childhood was backyard wild strawberries (covered in sugar).

i think they

love in melodies and rhythm.




















(she sings and he conducts,
and their togetherness flows and resonates easily,
and willingly.)

p.s. more here.

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.

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).

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.

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.

twenty-six.

(i found a laundromat in seemingly the middle of no where)

today: a wonderful daytrip, so much thinking and realizing, finding new places.