Don't Forget Dreaming

Over the past few weeks I've gotten to capture images of both of my favorite people, relishing in the summer glory and giggling the day away. This has been a real summer of change - it's strange that we're all in high school, looking up at our futures with unsure glances, however close they may be. 
College doesn't seem as far as it used to, because it isn't. Both Madi and I work now, which is crazy as well. I'm going into my junior year and trying to focus on my music as well as my photography and my writing, because they are still things that I treasure up in my heart. 

class of 2014 

But I've realized a few things. I for one, will always be young. 

I will always want to jump in rain puddles and get soaking wet, not caring if I'm wearing something fancy. 

I will always have five unread books on top of my dresser at one time.

And I do hope that, even if we're twenty somethings wandering New York or Europe or our hometown or college and wherever else we end up, we are simply children, relishing the wonder of new discoveries. 

I hope we never stop dream chasing. 

I hope the creation of a baby bird, just hatched, never ceases to amaze us. 

I hope that summer days will always carry with them the same lot of possibility, chance-taking, laughing, and adventure-taking.

I hope we never forget to just let go.

And I hope that, in the end, we never truly grow up. 


be still my heart

Sorry to pop in like this with a less-than-put-together and very short post, but I had to share:

Baby number three hatched yesterday, despite a storm that rocked the house and left me worried for all of their little lives, contained in a straw haven delicately perched. Nevertheless, all three - affectionately named Crescendo, Staccato, and Triplet - Cresh, Stack, and Trip for short, since the littles can't pronounce such long titles - are now safe and warm, looking for food at every waking moment and cozied up against each other at every sleeping one. 

Hope you are all having marvelous spring days! More fluent posts to come my lovelies.


balls of fuzz + rebirth

Yup, it's me. Haven't been on in approximately seventeen years, but I'm here. 
But Lord-willing I'll stay around this time. My picasa photo upload thingamagig wasn't cooperating with me, and now it is, so I won't question it. And what's a blog by me without pictures; it can't be done.
But during my hiatus more notebooks have been filled with words, more memory cards filled with images, and more ponderings wandering through my head just waiting to be shared, even if no one cares. So I'm back. And I plan on blowing up your feed with photos and words until you get sick of it. But hopefully not.

There is something about spring - the fresh green of a daffodil bud, the distinct smell of fresh earth, and the sound of a soaring bumblebee, mingled with the warmth of a seemingly new sun and shade of new leaves stretching to catch the gold rays. And we are ever reminded of the timeless theme of new life.

Underneath the roof of our rather beaten-looking secondhand playhouse/swingset, nestled between green plastic and a snuggly-fitted board, a nest has been formed. A while ago, we were delighted to discover that three small blue forms had taken up residence in this nest, along with a frenzied mother. She flits back and forth amid the leaves of neighboring trees and whisps of grass, searching for the perfect twigs and straw, while her eggs sit warmly in the crook of her creation.

The eggs hatched today. First a minute yellow beak, barely functioning but the first thing that moves after freedom, searching blindly for sustenance. Then blue-ish grey eyes, four times too big for the head; not open quite yet but mesmerizingly adorable just the same. There aren't many feathers - simply a few patches here and there, still moist from the previous living situation. There are two of them now - nestled together like pink pom-pom looking things, no larger than a sizeable grape. They rise their scraggly necks for seconds at a time, looking around for the mother, who is soon to return. Then they settle back into slumber, faithful in the fact that she will have food for them.

Egg number three has not yet hatched. Perhaps the miraculous creature inside will make an appearance tomorrow. And then we will watch them grow, just as we watch the flowers bloom and the littles learn and the days pass and the seasons change.
Just as life goes on.