a single bloom
a sliver of moon
a wish, not yet made
Rest
I think my favorite part of summer is the laziness. Somehow when the weather gets just exactly hot enough most of life’s seemingly pressing issues just sort of fade. They say time moves slower in the South, but summer is when I notice it. Where once there was a busy schedule and a long to-do list, there suddenly exists the space for wonder, and for rest.
You Could Make This Place Beautiful
I have this rule; when something - a book, documentary, podcast, idea, theory, etc - shows up in my life in three different, unrelated places, I take it as a sign. It’s in this way that I found poet Maggie Smith. (I know, I’m a little late to the party on this one.)
On a podcast with Kate Bowler I heard Maggie read her poem Good Bones. Afterwards I sobbed for ten minutes. Her words express perfectly where I spend my days.
Back to the Beginning
Lately my days exhaust me. I spend most of the hours that fill them on all the musts and needs, on taking care of the sweet little souls who depend on me. And trying my best not to give in to the belief that this world is a terrible, terrible place. A struggle these days, even on the good ones. I get to the end of each with little, if anything, left for myself. “It’s just that season of life,” I’m told. Which may be true, but isn’t particularly comforting. In the chaos of it all I’m finding it difficult to locate any desire to fuss with much of anything really, but especially film. It’s temporary, I know. The tide always flows before it ebbs. But deep down there’s still an ache to create, and I’ve found a great deal of comfort in going back to the thing I know well; a walk into the woods with my big digital camera, looking for reminders that beauty exists in this world.