"some people grumble that roses have thorns; i am grateful that thorns have roses."

-alphonse karr

Here's to 32!

Happy birthday, B! Celebrating the best with the best.

Spring by Linda Pastan.

Just as we lose hope

she ambles in,

a late guest

dragging her hem

of wildflowers,

her torn

veil of mist,

of light rain,

blowing

her dandelion 

breath

in our ears;

and we forgive her,

turning from

chilly winter

ways,

we throw off

our faithful

sweaters

and open

our arms.

To the Cape, we go.

I'm headed to the Cape this weekend. It will be my second visit to the house without Gran there (the last being for her service). I'm eager to be in a place so full of love & memories, and of course, there's also a bittersweet sentiment that hold strong.

And so, we will remember her well. We will walk on the beach in the morning. We'll channel and quote Mary Oliver as the sun rises over the marsh. We'll eat peanut butter toast and save the last bite of crust for her dog. We'll read in the chair on the porch, no matter the weather. The family will gather at the end of the day to have cocktails and dinner together. We'll likely even have coffee ice cream for dessert.

In my mind, she is forever reading in the chair on the porch. Even in February, she would bundle up and head outside to read so long as the sun was shining and the wind was light. We pretended she was on board a ship. Her strength and appreciation for her environment was always evident. When I look around the room for her, I'll just imagine that she's sitting outside reading & napping in the sun, just out of my view.

I've got my book packed, Gran. xoxo

say yes.

storypeople is always one of my great sources of inspiration. every once in a while they put out a new story, and i just want to squeeze it and tattoo it on myself.

this new one is definitely a new favorite:

"say yes. whatever it is, say yes with your whole heart & simple as it sounds, that's all the excuse life needs to grab you by the hands & start to dance."

Today by Mary Oliver

Today I'm flying low and I'm

not saying a word.

I'm letting all the voodoos of ambition sleep.

The world goes on as it must,

the bees in the garden rumbling a little,

the fish leaping, the gnats getting eaten.

And so forth.

But I'm taking the day off.

Quiet as a feather.

I hardly move though really I'm traveling

a terrific distance.

Stillness. One of the doors

into the temple.