We are all pulled to the shore, in love with the waves, the breeze, the sand. We feel home and free and alive.
I’m not going to lie: the 365 project has kind of fallen apart over the past few weeks. No excuses, no regrets, just life. I’ve still been taking pictures, but not every day. So, what I plan to do with the blog is get this baby caught up so at least I’ve shared a photo 365 days of the year AND I’m rededicating myself to finishing out 2013 with a photo a day.
And now, apropos of nothing, here’s a cool pic of a lionfish I snapped at the Great Lakes Aquarium in Duluth recently. Happy Friday!
I’ve been on a nostalgic musical journey over the past few weeks, ever since my friend Felicia turned me on to a Pandora genre station called ’70’s Lite Rock’. If you want to feel all the earthy glam and free-spirited innocence of that bygone era, I recommend tuning in. Somehow this image captures that spirit of the 70’s for me.
For some reason, I don’t take annuals seriously. I dismiss them with their ever-present cheerful blooms.
Too common? Too easy? It makes no sense.
Is a coneflower any more exotic than a marigold? Not at all. Next year, I will embrace these happy workhorses of the garden and enjoy the color and beauty they provide with such tireless consistency.
The other day, I spied something in the depths of the garden I’d never seen before. The delicate pink spires of the false dragonhead were a delightful surprise. I’d forgotten all about planting them. They appeared just as all the other flowers were petering out, reviving my fading interest in this year’s garden…
Abandoned houses are a childhood fascination I never outgrew. As a little girl riding in the backseat, I craned to get a closer look of the empty farmhouses. They were my landmarks on the drive to my grandparents’ house in rural Minnesota.
I loved to imagine the stories of the families. It was deliciously sad, mysterious and unfathomable that people would leave their homes to be slowly reclaimed by the wild. I always wanted to peer through the window or step inside to see what they’d left behind.