05 June 2012



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at brunch, we were full of laughter and a touch of silliness and anticipation of vastly different summer adventures on the way.

at the market, we found playful perennials and perfect peaches and some of the best apples I've ever tasted.

at the flea, I wanted to buy every pretty vintage bookshelf and chest of drawers. I tried to rationalize this by stating that I needed furniture for my new house. plus, they were recycled - a totally sensible buy, of course. the roommates knew better and managed to get me out of there without buying anything I couldn't carry on the metro. (but oh, those sandals. I'm kind of in love with them.)

at the bookstore, my search for CSL's Space Trilogy was finally complete. and I stumbled upon the perfect intro anthology for a lady I've been meaning to read for so long. and when I say stumbled, I literally mean stumbled. in this beautiful chaos of a bookstore we leapt over piles of books like ballet dancers. we scaled bookshelves like mountain climbers - reaching to the tips of our fingers for dostoevsky and tolstoy.

and best of all, at every step of the way, we loved being together. we celebrated the end the same way we celebrated the beginning. autumn called it symmetrical. I called if full circle. either way, it had a satisfying way of completeness to it. but without the circle feeling totally closed. because it's never really closed when you know the friendship will keep moving forward albeit under different roofs in cities far apart.

by the way, I feel like these two photos perfectly encapsulate my roommates. autumn, with her always moving, always joyful (even when she's not) smile. maria, with her quiet confidence and peaceful presence. these two balance me out in more ways than I can count. what the heck am I going to do without them?

31 May 2012

big and floppy.

awesome finds from pretty people vintage in alexandria. leave it to me to finally find a good vintage store. two weeks before moving. everyone needs a big, floppy hat if they're moving to the south, right? I'm getting ready, people. getting ready.

29 May 2012



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evening picnics with the favorites are all the more special when I know they are ending soon. it's hard to imagine enjoying life this much without them.

somehow we always end up back at our hill. the one in front of the netherlands carillon. we sit close with knees touching and pull out berries and bread and cheese. we wash our fruit with water from our bottles and eat slowly. after too many months apart, we are not surprised to find that we still fall into the same patterns of conversation and easy laughter. what a comfort to know that we will always fit.

the evening sun sets us in soft shadows and we shake off our dinner to enjoy the end of the day. we lay close together, talking about the silly things we believed when we were little and the silly things we still believe now. we imagine stories - entire lives - for the people around us. the sky darkens and the monuments illuminate in the distance. lincoln and washington's white marble shine bright in the twilight.

so many times during my day, I wonder why I'm choosing to leave nights like this. friends like these. but so far, God has been nothing but faithful. providing best friends on two different coasts. hopefully there are also a few to be found in the south.

27 May 2012

I scarcely know what to do with myself. there's so much to tell, but I don't think I'm ready to share quite yet. although most of the people who read this may already know. still. it eventually deserves some words in this little corner if I'm really being true to the purpose of this little corner. but the words will come in fits and starts, I suppose. because I'm still processing all of it. still praying about all of it. still trying to wrap my head around all of it.

in the meantime, here's a little instagram en route from nashville to DC. a hint of what's to come.

08 May 2012

april showers carry into may.

thunderstorms gathering. the sound of this I love almost as much as the storm itself. clouds rush in. settling as we quicken our steps and dig around in our bags for the umbrella we hope is there. trees rustle. swaying softly at first, but in a moment, forcefully. as though they might topple over if not for roots digging deep into the earth. and then the rain falls. like a bucket spilled over a sieve. not gradually growing, but all at once. with a rush of excitement and a bit of melodrama.

there's just something about everything getting ready. preparing instantly and all at once.

like a symphony right before the start. players enter. settling as we are seated and decide who will take command of the shared armrest. papers rustle. black and white sheets of notes and bars and soaring scores moving into their proper place in the order of things. and then the conductor quiets us all. and the silence before the opening crescendo envelopes us. and then the music is there. not gradually growing, but all at once. with a rush of excitement and a bit of melodrama.