just so much

has happened these past two months that i've been terribly absent from this little page.

i ventured to lakes and oceans and happened upon wonderful places with the dearest folks.

there are also new things:

a) having completed a year of wednesdays here (and enjoying every day of it), she & i began this.

b) i am putting the finishing touches on my little etsy shop (full of photographs and other curiosities)

c) my ink + watercolor journal (on the pages of an old book that i actually have begun to enjoy, apart from it's perfect texture to paint on), that i think i'll show you bits and pieces from here and there, starting tomorrow, and maybe every day but i make no promises.

i hope you all are well.

thank you for reading and (with any luck) not forgetting about me.

life is wondrous and my heart is at peace and i think there is something to be said for that.

my Father is so faithful.

most sincerely,

lesley

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.