january weekends.

Once upon a time I used to carry my camera along with me wherever I went. With the addition of the smart phone to my life, that tradition was suddenly no more.

I miss it.

For the sake of creativity, for the sake of doing, for the sake of inspiration, for the sake of self-discipline.

Some glimpses into my weekend:

// I swear, the way the small amount of sunlight coming in my bedroom window hits the folds and curves and creases in the sheets on my bed... //


// Fresh snow on the neighbor's roof //



// This bedroom feels so much like my own now //



// Martha and Elton, masters of mischief //


// We always joke the the bathroom is our favorite room in the house, but.....it actually is //


// Third-floor windows are just so much happier than first-floor windows //


// Saturday afternoon thrift store treasures //


// I've begun writing this phrase from my favorite poem everywhere, and can't really stop //





// A quick trip home for a Sunday means lots of puppy love and visiting my favorite woods again //

// The light coming down the basement steps, the dogs waiting expectantly... //


// In the winter, you will never find Blanche far from the wood stove //


// Have you read this? It's entirely disturbing, but I can't put it down... //

// After a beautiful morning turned into a dreary gray afternoon, the sky cleared again just enough for the most beautiful January pink //

without shame, or judgment, or apology.

When I walk down the hall or the street or through the house,
the click of my heels –
the grown-up heels in the form of ankle boots from a dear friend –
they click and clack and reverberate through the walls, the buildings, the ceilings.


I will not step lighter to hush their noises. 
I will not step faster to hurry their sounds.


I will step, and step, and step again, loudly and clearly and
without shame
or judgment
or apology.






When I write my words or post my pictures,
the sentiment that gets poured through --
be it in a smile or a non-smile or a foot or a cup or a tree --
it will be taken however it will be taken.


I will not post less to quiet myself.
I will not post differently to morph myself.


I will post, and post, and post again, loudly and clearly and
without shame
or judgment
or apology.






When I move through the world
in tears, or anger, or elation, or anxiety --
and oftentimes they all go hand-in-hand in the strangest paradox I've known --
I will love them and welcome them all the same.


I will not stifle anger for fear of stepping on toes.
I will not suppress tears for worry of looking weak.


I will feel, and feel, and feel again, loudly and clearly,
without shame
or judgment
or apology.









These are my newest 2014 vows and I love them. You? 

christmas in connecticut.

In an effort to take my camera out more, to edit personal photos out of pure fun, to reflect back on the holidays and times of joy, to slow down a minute and release that sweet, sweet end of 2013.

Christmas in Connecticut: