learning to like winter

winter I know that I haven't always loved you,
but right now I can see your appeal.
when you let your snow fall
sometimes it rides on the billows of wind
gets tangled in my hair, creating a white halo
feathering my lashes and melting on my outstretched tongue.
the powdered sugar tastes smooth, softer than cream
with an indefinable flavor.

it piles up only to be blown away
then the volume compacts the powder to weigh it down
and sodden clumps fly from my hand to Nick's back

now, days later, it's the crunchableness that draws me in
to jump and stomp and crush its heaps.
I kick and karate chop icicles from branches, bottoms of cars and gutters,
except for when they serve as my brittle sabers in my duels which inevitably end with a snap.

Read some answers to the question Why I Blog from Brook, Leigh, Brittany and Katie

Also, I got a Facebook page just for The Book of Love, so you no longer need to be my "friend" to see when I post. You can like The Book of Love here and stay current on my posts. I'll probably share some of the outtakes from my photoshoots on Facebook since I try not to overwhelm you with too many pictures per post. In fact, I'll share some from this snow shoot that I didn't include today.

I could happily live in a bookstore such as this one

I Ask You

What scene would I want to be enveloped in

more than this one,

an ordinary night at the kitchen table,

floral wallpaper pressing in,

white cabinets full of glass,

the telephone silent,

a pen tilted back in my hand?

It gives me time to think

about all that is going on outside--

leaves gathering in corners,

lichen greening the high grey rocks,

while over the dunes the world sails on,

huge, ocean-going, history bubbling in its wake.

-part of a Billy Collins poem

I found the loveliest bookstore in Salt Lake City this past weekend. If you're in the area, be sure to visit The King's English bookstore. I was searching for a place to shoot a particular photography assignment and this was the first bookstore I went to and I was immediately enchanted. The ladies were very patient, and kind and helpful and I left one book richer with this collection of poetry by Billy Collins.

O Autumn, laden with fruit, and stain'd With the blood of the grape, pass not

All I've been pinning lately is art and soup. Here's some of the art. :)
I like that most of the colors are muted with the occasional bam! of lemon, mustard, coral or poppy.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 

*Title from William Blake's poem "To Autumn"

Have you ever ridden a tandem bicycle?

My soul expands as I venture forth.
We are wanderers.
No ties but to each other.
He holds my hand and I am free--to roam, to dance, to be.
Guidebooks and sunglasses, picnic lunches, ferrys, seasickness, carsickness, tandem bicycles and all the in between moments of our lives.
I am not still by nature. The muscles beneath the surface of my body quiver to move, even in tiredness I cannot rest. And so we are adventurers, though sometimes our adventures lie mainly in the pages of books and the woven words of our dreams together.

new places

To know a person you must talk and listen to them
To know a place you must walk and, yes, even listen to it.
Walk it in circles— 
up down
up down
all around,
around town.

Build a muscle memory of it.
The turns will come instinctively.
The culture of the place will be a part of you—
you will not say "please" to a shopkeeper like a tourist
nor will you smile on the streets.
But be as the locals—
stoic, fluid—a part of the place you now live in.

perfect days

Today was perfect.
He had a ten page paper due
that he had started writing the night before

I had two projects,

a final draft,

and a response paper.

But it was perfect.

He had three free meals,

breakfast, lunch and dinner

and the sun was shining

the air was summer warm

and I was wearing a yellow skirt.

Today was perfect.

I wrote this during our last week of school. And lately has been so un-perfect that I wanted to remember other days that were hard but still beautiful. 

the peace of lilac

Breathing in lilac is like being washed clean.
Any feelings of negativity or weight that I carry melts away, brushed off by the breeze. What is left is peace and clarity.
Years ago people believed that their was a secret language to flowers, that each one meant something. Then science was discovered and such ideas were discarded as mysticism and superstition. Now, through essential oils, homeopathy, and other means we see the magic of flowers. 
People say that lavender is good for headaches but lilacs do well for mine. I love the smell of hyacinths too. Perhaps it's the color that cures as much as the smell—lilac, lavender, hyacinth. I bet bees do a dance of joy whenever they come across one of these beauties.

whisperings

Let's say that you wake up one day and realize that you're not as excited about the trajectory of your life as you think you should be.
Let's say that you look into the mirror and ask yourself who, what, where are you?
Let's say that you alter your path and it's scary and hard and nigh unto impossible at times, but you love it and are happier than you've been before.
Let's say that your husband is behind you a hundred percent and not only wants you to succeed but helps you to "find yourself".
Let's say your just like me.

Forgotten things and lost keys

This morning was just one of those mornings. We spent ten minutes looking for keys; then had to run back to the house, not once but twice, before we ever even left for forgotten things. 

And although it was hectic, nothing could put me in a bad mood.

We woke up early, went for a walk and when my stomach started hurting we sat on the couch eating oatmeal, drinking cider and reading together. Reading and cider are a universal cure-all in my opinion. 

Happy weekend eve. (This is a great cause for celebration.)

Trousers/Blouse: ASOS, Belt: Nordstrom Rack, Cardigan: Target, Earrings: Etsy, Shoes: Thrifted

Here is a poem.

The juxtaposition strikes me

Of trees filled with purplish-red leaves,

But some branches still clothed in greenish yellow,

While the sky is the color of winter,

And the air feels like a warm breath of air against my neck.