Sunday.

Sunday Brunch

Oh these girls.  Accidental color coordination

We dubbed it "The Street of Love" - a stranger on the street greeted his neighbor, asking if they were indeed just married - they replied yes, and he said he himself had just gotten engaged

Dinner out - baked brie and the perfect lighting

Hand-warming post dinner

Cape-twirling

Post D-Day

I went to bed at 11 with a heavy heart.  I awoke at 3am feeling sick to my stomach.  Now, at 7:30, I start my day with an ache for my country, and a prayer...these prayers must continue.

Changes & Flowers

A kindred got engaged over the weekend.  The first of us "Romantics" to go, and not something I was in any way prepared for.  I have been processing this since Friday; seeing her today helped make everything seem more real.  Still, somehow seeing a fellow free spirit with a striking rock on her hand is altogether shocking...and so symbolic.  We exchanged several tear-filled looks over brunch that conveyed more than words ever could.  My heart is full for her and her future joy.  Yet, nothing will ever be quite the same way again.  It is the way things go.

On my way to meet her, I stopped to pick up flowers as a small engagement gift.  I wanted something small, graceful, yet vibrant.  I had hoped for a single flower that would summarize everything, but nothing stood out enough on it's own.  I browsed for several minutes alone in the very cold room which the flowers all resided in.  After a time, an older woman joined me and we eyed up the colorful wares in silence.  Then, looking at the iris in my hand, and the buckets of flowers surrounding us, she commented "It doesn't get any better than this, does it?"  I could only agree.  I told her the occasion for the flowers, and she told me that she was an artist...I asked her to help me in my selections.  I had already chosen the iris, and a tapered sprig of pale purple flowers...she said that an orange would perfectly off-set the blues, and we eventually chose a burnt orange rose to join the others.  Our exchange was brief, but it made all the difference.  I think you find people of like-mind in unexpected places, but most especially around flowers.


Everyone is growing up and going away, it seems...the time is NOW to treasure these golden moments of youth and freedom.  Thursday and Friday are All Saints Day and All Souls Day...a bonfire celebration may just have to happen. 

There was no dew on the lawn at midnight...

...As I communed with Nature under a full moon...the last full moon of the summer.  My farewell seemed only fitting on a night such as this: the air balmy and close, the crickets still singing, and the slightest occasional breeze whispering in the trees...all else, solitude.  I let my robe fall from me, and walked a few paces before lying down in the grass.  I defy you to not feel like a goddess, lying naked in the moonlight...white skin bathed in the purest of white light.  Putting on my robe once more, I held up a candle to the moon and bid it and the summer goodnight.

Masquerade

Last night was an ode to summer with a few fellow romantics.  Summer, still held in our hands, but soon, fading fast.  Dozens of candles throughout the yard, bottles of wine drunk from tarnished chalices...a midnight feast in the garden.  The voices of Florence, Loreena, and Lana sung over the course of evening; sometimes we ceased speaking and simply listened to the words. The chorus of crickets filled any silences.  The moon rose, and drew us to patches of its light, where we gazed in wonder.  We danced around a torch in the middle of the lawn, through the trees, down the sloping hill.  Spinning, jumping, twirling..."Let the wild rumpus start" indeed.  Cigars were smoked at 1am, and we conversed and read Edna until 3am.  Our masks led to a strange feeling of safety, of nothing-to-lose openness.  The night passed too quickly, and yet, will not be soon forgotten.  Summer, stay, just a little while yet.
I woke up this morning with a Queen Anne's Lace still in my hair.

http://rabbitheartedgirl87.blogspot.com/

 

    

 

Come into my garden, said the spider to the fly

"And here's to drinks in the dark..." (-Florence)

"July, she will fly...

...and give no warning to her flight..."



-Simon & Garfunkel

Almost crashed my car getting this photo...driving-photography has really got to stop for me, but it's oh-so necessary sometimes...

The death of a vision.

Recovering my scattered thoughts, one day at a time.  Figuring out a Plan B, or, trying not to think at all.  Life continues.