"Colour is not Meant to be Explained -

It is meant to be felt. From that feeling, an idea is born, and creation begins." - Turki Abdul Amir Auda

Earlier this month, New York Fashion Week came and went, and I honestly couldn't tell you a single thing about it besides the fact that I'll be over here (at some point) catching up, and that the Pantone Fashion Color Trend Report for Spring / Summer 2027 has dropped ... And ... It's not bad? The colors are pretty, and light, and floaty, and fun, and exactly what you want Spring and Summer to feel like. 

Oh ... Oh, no. 

Sweet Nothing

"I have done nothing all Summer, but wait for myself to be myself again."

-Georgia O'Keefe
(Letter to Russell Vernon Hunter - October 21, 1933)  

What I Did on My Summer Vacation ...

... And it's ALL my mother's fault! 

It started last Summer, well no, it was Spring (the end of April, 2025, to be exact), when I casually mentioned how nice it would be to have some fill-dirt to even out some of the low spots in my yard, top off my garden beds, and level out the ground that lay exposed after the absolute scalping my laurel hedge endured. Fast forward a couple of days to me waking up to a rumbling dump truck unloading FIVE cubic yards of dirt in my driveway that my mother ordered without telling me. 

Now, I'm not naturally the jealous type, but I think it's worth noting, my sister gets gifts like adorable sets of pajamas, and fancy baking sheets she'll never use, a little outdoor bistro set for her patio, a new throw rug ... 

I get dirt. 

It's not that it happens to be dirt, I'd be lying if I said I didn't want the dirt, I would've just preferred it on my terms. My sister gets gifts that make her life easier, or more pleasurable; a little upgrade here and there. My gifts arrive as spontaneous character-building exercises (I'm not entirely sold on the idea that the real treasure is the character we built along the way), also, I don't think anyone has to connect a lot of dots here to discover the complete lack of affection I maintain for surprises.

Urge for Going

They got the urge for going,
And they got the wings so they can go...

 

I felt it two weeks ago. I don't even want to say it out loud just yet, particularly because it never felt like Summer actually started this year, even my plants seem to agree (at least I'm not the only one confused around here!), but now it's definitely happening. The first, sharp bite of Fall was in the early evening air a couple Sundays ago - the sun hadn't even gone all the way down yet. Overall, the atmosphere was still pleasant, and gentle, and warm, but that indisputable chill with each soft gust told the real story. It doesn't matter how hot it gets in the daytime from here on out, Fall is undeniably closing in. Even though it's my favorite season, I still don't want to admit that it's time to switch gears, and start preparing my list of pre-Winter outdoor chores. I probably still won't need to start them until much later, but it's definitely time to get familiar with what will need to get done before I slip into full hibernation mode. It's also time to check in with myself, and make sure I'm soaking up as much of the Sun as I possibly can.

 

Slow down. 

 

Savor. 

 

Remember. 

Make Your Own Kind of Music

“I tell jokes and cut capers about the place and make the monks laugh. They all say I’m possessed by the devil and insult me. But I say to myself: It can’t be true; God must like fun and laughter.” 
                                                                     -Nikos Kazantzakis, Zorba the Greek

I gave myself permission, this Summer, to savor the Hell out of it ... Like, really squeeze every last drop of joy out of, even (especially?), the most ordinary moments. At the time I was so benevolently bestowing the privilege upon myself, I couldn't foresee quite how necessary it was going to be. I just knew that my nervous system deserved it, and of all the hits I've taken in the last handful of years, I knew I'd still managed to hang onto my senses of appreciation, and play, and I think that actually leaves a person with quite a lot of room on which to build something good. 

Happy to be Stuck with You!

On this momentous (blogiversary) occasion I want to say, first of all, I can not believe I've been at this for as long as I have, and what's even more unbelievable is that you animals are still coming around to read any of it! The least believable thing of all is that no one has emailed me yet to kindly tell me to log off the interwebs and buy a diary! Actually ... Maybe they have, and I just haven't made it to that circle of Hell in my inbox yet. So, thanks (I think?) for putting up with eighteen years of my screed, so far. 

Copping it, Washing it ...

... 'Bout to go, and get some compliments! Today is National Thrift Shop day here in America (we'll celebrate just about anything), but I'd argue every day can be Thrift Shop day if you try hard enough. Don't believe me? Just take a look at the freaks with extreme flipper-mentality over on the TicTac who've turned junkin' into something weird now. Hey, in this economy, I appreciate anyone making a buck whatever way they can, but making thrift-store-shopping your ENTIRE personality, while you take cool old stuff, paint everything greige, and rub dirt on it is ... Weird. I don't care how you slice it. Speaking of slicing, remember that six month stretch a while back when everything was cake???

Hypnotized, Mesmerized

"August is the slow, gentle month that stretches out the longest across the span of a year. It yawns and lingers on with the light in its palms." 

- Victoria Erickson