the pictures, they’re the only thing that seem to fit just right. that’s why i keep taking them.
i spend an embarrassing amount of the rest of my time working, thinking about aging, folding laundry, pining, and trying NOT to eat as many cookies as i think i need. i am reading a book and watching a series, but they’re not the kinds of things that feed me. and they sure as hell don’t feel like this photo feels. the brilliant green. the sun shining through the blackbirds’ wings. the fuzzy landscape. the poetry. it’s the poetry i can’t get enough of.
where do you find the poetry? or whatever it is that fills you up? and what do you do when you can’t even identify what it is you need?
rode up on this flight of cliff swallows the other night. did you know that’s what a group of swallows is called? a flight. they were sunning on the dirt road and lifted into the air as we came upon them. such a good show.
having the best summer. some shots from camp.
the days were shorts and tshirts and ice cream and hikes and swings and friends and freedom. the nights were campfires and s’mores and singing. bedtime (my favorite) was cozy all tucked in our tiny cabin together. our uneven breathing, the open windows, the closeness in the middle of the forest until the birds woke us up again at dawn.
i’ve been dragging C out here to chase birds for so long, and he doesn’t even seem to mind it. on this night, it was blackbirds, cranky lady night herons, egrets, marsh wrens, grackles, and bullfrogs.
this is me. in my happy place.