Ten.Four Hundred & Fifty-Seven
Nag champa. I remember when this was a part of every morning. I should bring this ritual back.
It makes me think of the green house and its white window sills and how the smoke would curl through the kitchen in the pre-dawn light.
Soccer this morning. Must not forget.
I never do these photo-a-day challenges but this might be good for me. Just to get me back to having my camera in my hands every day and for a little bit of inspiration to see things differently.
Solo bike ride on the trail and an episode of “hey, girl,” podcast; the episode with Jerelle from Chocolate for Basil.
All the goldenrod. And the purple flowers. And the white flowers with yellow centers that look like chamomile. I wish I had gardening shears and a basket so I could take cutting back home and fill the windows with them. Next time. Next time I’ll be more prepared.
Tea time. I’ve developed a steady craving for the Yogi detox tea, not because it’s detoxifying, but because the smell and the taste of the blend is so perfect for fall.
I forget that the downside of sharing parts of yourself publicly is that people feel compelled to comment. I know it comes from a place of support. But really, I don’t need another person to tell me to “be patient.” This has been a trying season. It’s not just these past 90 days that I’ve been waiting. We’ve been sitting on a hook since last December. I really have been patient.
Lights on, fireplace on, classical music on. Time to go.
I take the root beer cookies to go. I’ll eat them in bed while watching Schitt’s Creek. I’ll giggle before falling asleep.