I have long been a fan of the simple beauty of the daisy. Sometimes it’s harder to see the everyday flowers. Isn’t that true of anything we love once it becomes familiar? It takes something to shake us out of our same-old eyes to realize all over again how stunning it really is.
230/365: sunrise, lake harriet
One of my favorite parts of summer is my daily sunrise yoga practice at Lake Harriet. Friday morning was particularly glorious: a cool, late summer breeze, pink-tinged clouds, the lonely screech of sea gulls and clank of sailboat moorings. It was all so beautiful I had to pull out my iPhone to take a picture. I’m so glad I did. I want to remember that August morning long after the snow flies.
Thank you Lake Harriet Yoga Project for the wake up calls…
One of the highlights of Fourth of July at the cabin is the Side Lake parade. It’s got everything: waving princesses in convertibles, families on floats, marching bands in full regalia, and plenty of candy flying through the air. People line the streets with camp chairs, cars, and coolers. Everyone’s decked out in red, white, and blue. It’s a tradition that reinvents itself every year but always remains true to our memories of parades past.
Sometimes I avoid photographing the lilies. They are so beautiful, it just seems too obvious somehow. But, this year, the lilies would not be ignored. The stems were laden with show-stopping, drop-dead gorgeous blooms in such abundance, clamoring for space. Lush and fiery, they stopped me in my tracks every time I passed by.
It’s all about rites of passage this time of year. Graduations, last days of school, weddings. Doors closing and others opening. It’s a bittersweet time.
As a child passing through these milestones, I think it’s mostly sweet. At least, that’s how I remember it. Everything exists in the present moment when you’re kid. You think about things in the future & past, sure. But, really, it comes down to giving all you’ve got to the moment.