can you keep it

i'm not doing any meeting

mimic

pictures from an afternoon with h at the lincoln park zoo + conservatory a few weeks back. this girl is my favorite subject. she's a kind soul who doesn't mind having a camera in her face (most of the time). it was very chilly, so we spent the majority of our day huddled in the conservatory while i taught her to use my 35mm camera (she enjoys using disposable cameras and my polaroid). i hope that these are photographs we both look back on together as we grow older, remembering our early days as best friends / adventurers.

the earth//

still swooning over last week's visits to two local conservatories. i wish i had known about these hidden gems earlier in the winter or in years past. i really want to start a small garden. even if it is only composed or perhaps a small windowsill herb collection this summer. regardless, i am recharged and in love with the earth.

this girl//

this girl has my heart. which swells every time she hugs me goodnight or mimics one of my oddities. she loves america to the bone and even dances to billy idol + hall & oates with me some days. she dreams up outfit concoctions i only wish i had the chutzpah to rock now. she's a tiny dancer. a real outdoorsy girl when she wants to be. a kitchen helper. a creative mind. an explorer of the world.

just last weekend she was directing me where to sit as i tried to explain how to use a 35mm camera to her. she turned my chin towards the light with her small fingers and instructed me to look up into the flowers. the amount of patience she shows when it's just the two of us-- huddled in a fort reading, watching jellyfish at the aquarium, carefully composing 27 photos on a disposable camera, and even walking alongside the lakefront of a blisteringly hot day-- swells my heart. this girl has shown me kindness in the purest of ways. a shared apple slice. inviting me to read her bedtime stories. going to the farmer's market together in matching sequined mouse ears.

this girl has my heart. my whole entire heart.

sanctuary//

it's about that time of winter where i'm beginning to yearn for summer again. the sun only comes out in small teases and every cry of a bird is met with snowflakes. to escape chapped skin and cold air, I escaped to two conservatories this week. feeling the cleanest air fill your lungs and smelling moist dirt in the middle of the winter is one of the best natural highs for this time of year. these places make me want to start a garden filled with the freshest flowers and vegetables this summer.

isn't the chichuly installation gorgeous among all the foliage? i'm in love. true story, there used to be more chihuly and spaces to explore in the garfield park conservatory, but after a nasty storm with golf ball-sized hail the shattered much of the roof last summer there have been slow repairs to the gardens.

Labokoff

Meet the work of Labokoff. 

 I first found her on Etsy a couple years back, and ever since have been in love with her work. The balance between the top and bottom of her pieces is in such harmony, and creates a very unique feeling.

You can check out her website or etsy or blog. 

They're so beautiful.

It kills me.

xoxo

- - - - -

waxing crescent

Suddenly you’re laying on the stomach of the boy you love and looking at the moon. Just laying there thinking about what Alysia said.

About writing happy poems.

And it makes you wonder why life is happening to you, because you never thought it could be like this. Broken families and broken people don’t lead to a perfect Jake Cooper. The fact that the universe has hiccuped on this one scares you.

When the clouds hide the moon you remember when you were twelve in that apartment, and when you were fourteen in that car, and when you were sixteen at that park bench. There’s still shaking legs and words at your ear and you’re still double checking every bald man over the age of forty. 

The clock meets 1:24 and you’re sad you missed 1:23. Perfect order doesn’t come very often. Not right now, at least. Right now you’ve got chaos and a bottle of wishy-washy on your doorstep, crying in the cold. Neither of them are close to 1:23, and that makes you hurt. 

A hand on the curve of your hips reminds you that nothing comes back, but a touch on the small of your back reminds you that the real things

the good things

always do.