A Summer's Eve

I've never quite been a summer girl, but there is something about this time of year that gets my heart going.

How I adore my yard when it is in full bloom. Though I wish I could say some of its splendor is my doing, it is all my mom's handiwork. Still, I do contain a bursting feeling of pride and possessiveness over it as I walk amidst its glory. There is the huge rosebush that sweeps over our back porch and captures it like a disease come springtime. Then, as summer comes, a thick crop of rosebuds begins to light it up with color like candles over a dark room. I love the pleasure that runs through me when I step outside and smell the brilliance of the roses in the afternoon.

There are thousands of flowers. Rhubarb with leaves bigger than trees. Our backyard maple, front yard oak and red bud and mountain ash. Swarms of bees feasting on the flowers, butterflies that come to visit, and worms burrowing in the dark, healthy dirt. My mom's herb garden grows daintily. When the raspberries start to come, bucket after bucket are filled after each picking.

I bike, too. There's nothing quite like riding free, wind rushing through my hair and over my neck. It's almost what I would imagine riding a horse bareback would be like. Feeling close to the wild earth.

What I love more than anything, though, is when dusk comes. I slip outside and stand on the porch. I just stand and soak it all in. The sky, the air in my lungs, the tree silhouettes, and the crickets. I stand and feel the wind on my face. The sky swallows me in its vastness. . . and that is the time when my worries wash away.

If anything makes me feel beautiful, it is the dusk and the wind.
I feel the presence of God nearing, and I am changed.

Tonight, I went outside and flattened down on the ground and watched some ants. I felt a familiar childlike wonder creep into my gaze. It has been so long since I've done something like that: just lied down to look at the details. I'm finding that, these days, I have to intentionally choose to simply savor moments.

Well, here's to the future,
where I hope I will once again be able to find beauty in the little things. I'm going to relearn to look for the small things, like veins in the flowers. It's time to breathe deeply, slow down, and open my eyes wide again.

My dog, Jasmine, enjoying the world.

it's those little things

Things I love:

• Compliments slipped into a sentence, the work of quietly and effortlessly loving someone.
  (I have never been able to do this, which makes me admire it all the more.)
• The sound of a cello or acoustic guitar. 
• Cool wind on my face.
• When people show a part of them I never expected.
• Standing before Lake Superior.
• Being barefoot. 
• Summer days filled with biking and adventures.
• Watching the flame of a candle. 
• Black and white photographs of people.
• Sudden inspiration. I can never control its coming.
• Having a better time doing something than I expected. 
• Grapefruit for breakfast.
• The excitement of plays. 
• The hush and novelty of going to an art museum.
• Shoveling snow after a winter snowfall, standing on the sidewalk in the transformed and magical city.
• The mystery of strangers. 
• Autumn.
• Mismatched bookcases.
• Genuine smiles.
• An honest answer.
• Trees against sky. 
• The quilt my grandma made me when I was young.
• Brilliant teachers.
• Unexpected letters.
• My mom's cooking. 
• Brown paper packages. 
• Hearing someone's story.
• Generosity.
• Moss and forest. 
• Family and home. 
• Anything that triggers beloved memories of my childhood.
• Dusk.
• Music that hits home in the moment, an expression of the indescribable inside of me. 
• Sitting around a campfire with the ones I love.
• Rust.
• Bees in the summer, humming all around. 
• Seeing people in love.
• Thursdays. The day when I meet with my mentor group. 
• Apologies. And so often they are from someone else, when I should be the one apologizing.
• The moon's appearance as I walk home from school. 
• Washing dishes in front of an open window during the summer. The sound of crickets, light of streetlamps, soapy water on my hands. 
• The sound of a good, potent harmony.
• Watching the clouds come summertime.
• Hearing people's dreams for the future.
• The smell of the air when spring is just around the corner. 
• Rekindled friendship. 
• A beloved book, read so many times that it feels like home. 
• Laughing over nonsense with someone I love.
• The moment when I am so comfortable with someone that how I look no longer matters.
• Raw prayer and poetry.

Just some things that make my heart beat fast or my eyes see clearer or awake my heart with joy.

There's something about the little things that help me to find who I am, to find who God made me to be.

And to know Him more.

a dose of Random, just for you

This will be one of those chitty-chatty posts, possibly a bit dry (a.k.a. boring). Oh well, bear with me. I definitely feel the need to sometimes depart from all things deep and serious.

So, hello.

I'm lying on the couch like a limp carcass flopped on the beach. I got less than four hours of sleep last night and I can not believe I made it through the day sans caffeine and without a nap. I must say I'm pretty proud of myself. This is a large accomplishment for me! Still, those measly hours are catching up to me, and I have a persistent little headache nagging me to go to sleep.

I was just reflecting upon the fact that my blog is all about me. Some blogs are much more like a community than a personal diary. The author leaves questions to be responded to by the readers. There is open dialogue, a flowing discussion. It's more crowd participatory. I find mine is much closer to my personal thoughts noted down. I might blame that tendency of mine upon my assumption that no one would respond if I asked questions (considering I have a small readership). But I'm wondering: is that worse than the other, more communal blog? Is there a difference in value between the two kinds? Is the one leaning towards a journal format more selfish? Does it have less effect? Obviously the community type involves more people and might draw the readers in more. Instead of a singular focus upon one person and their opinions, there is a call and response. But what if a reader prefers to stay invisible (which I know I do- I rarely comment but nonetheless read faithfully)? They can remain unheard by choice with either type of blog, but it might be possible that there is nothing worse about the journal format. Do you believe one is better? Clearly, these are no clean cut "types" of blogs, but I find there is an aspect to a blog that make it more defined as a community compared to another. What do you think? (See? See how I did that? I asked for your thoughts and responses, just like a community type blog!) Anyways, I've found that I have a tendency to just write as I write and hope for comments. (Which, I must say, is me being far too focused upon popularity.) There is a nagging thought within me that this isn't the best way. It might not be.

If you noticed, I fiddled around with the look of my blog a little bit and I am surprisingly pleased with it. Usually when I change it, I find some regret I have over it; something else looked better about the old one. This time, I have no regrets! This is a rare feeling for me. I cling to familiarity and shrink back when confronted with change. This feels good.

It looks like supper is ready and my stomach is eager to eat. I will see you all later. Much love to you!