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my life in photographs

The gladdest things in the jam room & a knack for gathering.

After the long and quiet hours of winter, the garden season is finally upon us. I have already begun to gather plants and blooms so the backyard can be our own little slice of growing poetry.

Early mornings in the mountains are bittersweet. Sweet because the air sings to you like a song about being alive. Bitter because you know this is only a break from routine and soon you'll be back to your own little world of sunlight and shadow. The truth is, my life is bountiful, but I have always wanted to live with the mountains in my view or the sea at my feet. I am happy, but I am happiest when my hair smells like pine trees.

A handful of flowers always makes my troubles easier to bear.
Welcome to the family - a newly acquired vintage electric.

 The spring air sent an invitation to my feet and now all I do and dream of is sitting in the tall grass with a banjo in my arms. Let me live here where boredom is only a passing cloud, where the bumblebees and birds sing louder than rolling wheels, where I think not of tomorrow, only of today.

 I would pawn the midday sun to have lilac blooms always within arms reach.

It is my happiest season - the one where grass is growing wild while the bees hover and gather by the most fragrant flowers. All I want to do is dig trenches and watch nature come alive as it always does during springtime. 

Are you planting your garden? What will you plant or gather this year? Tell me about your life lately. I'll be seeing you soon.


sowing in the garden

Here I am - fighting and fussing through my days with a head cold instead of sowing in the garden. I want to be well enough to pick which flowers will be planted this spring, but life has a way of throwing rocks at windows when all you wanted was rain. I have been in my cocoon called a bedroom where the only flowers here are sitting on a dress or hanging in all of their dried and delicate glory. I watch the pollen float through a crack of light in my bedroom window. I sneeze like the whole world is going to hear me. I wonder how I could ever complain about the taste of my supper during the times when my body felt right.

These photographs were taken a week ago, when I felt better, and the garden center was packed with people who had escaped winter and found in themselves a desire to buzz around like bees and set their senses alight by the flowers. I let my joy be sparked by the look on a woman's face when she reaches for her favorite snapdragon plant or a child who grabs a petunia and says "mammy, can we haf this one?" I remember all of the times I saw my mother's hand reach for pots to add to the garden and how it made her seem like she was wearing hearts for eyes. Out of every memory made in my lifetime, the ones where she is there and we're garden bound appear fairest in my mind.

I long to return with her so we can make the backyard come alive with our own little poems, but first, it's a box of tissues and the foghorn sound of my throat begging to return to singing and feeling well again.

outfit details: Modcloth dress, Value Village / thrifted hat & shoes

mountain necklace & instagram giveaway

I rarely do giveaways unless it's for something that spurs me to grin, so here is a little Sunday to Sunday giveaway where you could win a mountain necklace from Lace Brick Design.  Imagine that, having a little poem of geology sitting on your heart everywhere you go. If I had a necklace for every time I wished to be in the mountains, I'd probably fall flat onto the floor.

- How to enter -
 1. Follow @amyflyingakite on Instagram
2. Follow @lacebrickdesign on Instagram
3. Leave a comment on my Instagram telling us you have entered.

Winner will be drawn randomly and announced next Sunday!
 Good luck!


let life begin again

Lately, the brush I use to paint my life seems frozen or without paint. I can forget this when the sun is warm and may flowers are swinging like a trapeze in the breeze, but if you took a magnifying glass and placed my moods in red ink on a map, you would see that I am utterly lost. I have fingers that work for stirring tea leaves. I have somebody to love. I have more friends than two hands could hold. I have wolves in my banjo and birds in my guitar. You would think this could be enough to fill the holes in a heart or to make a canvas rich in color, but as of late - it's not.

I want something else — something stranger. I want to quit feeling like I am forgotten luggage meant for the departure wing of an airport. I deserve more than this, not for any other reason than the fact that I am a human being with only so many days left for breathing. Most of the time, I am at peace with a cup of coffee and a window seat leading to the backyard where I watch whistling songbirds fly from their perch and let life begin again. Most of the time, being alive is enough for me. I don't need to be kissed, to be warmed by a fire or to travel to a new country. I don't need to fit into the boxes society tells me to or change who I am to fit somebody else's plans, but lately, I keep putting a question mark at the end of every "I am who I am." 

I have become one of those women you either are or you hear about — we are muses, we stay in the shadows even if we are destined for the light, we give and we give until we are bones. Nobody is telling me to be this way, and sometimes, I'm perfectly happy, but other times, it's only natural for women like this to stop and gasp at how little we take for ourselves. I spend all of my spare time worrying about somebody else and I let the seconds in a day slip away like it's only sand from an hourglass, but this is it, this is my life — wild, strange, wonderful, and slip slip slipping away.


I want to run like I am running to, not running from. I want to remember what it felt like to be in love with the world even when the sun was hiding and the day had no light. I am bored and yet I am fully aware of how life for me is intrinsically rewarding, more so than many lives who follow the path well trodden, but I have settled for what is as if I must drink tea leaves out of the same cup for the rest of my life.

I keep waiting for somebody to swoop in and bring purpose and paint into my life. I dine on the glow of morning and continue doing what I have always done. Yes, there is poetry. Yes, there is music. Yes, there is love from the floorboard all the way to the roof. It is not an absence of love or wonder I hold in my wrath, it is a lack of something new, something different, something that scares me and spurs me into growing.

It is not yet time for waiting. It is now where I must run into a new set of woods and find in myself a way of stepping out from under the shadow and into the sunshine. Unless my heart removes its beat or my lungs refuse to work, I will always have my reasons to run.

outfit details: everything was found at a thrift store

a dream of swimming in the sea

 I don't remember the first time I went swimming in the sea. I was young and unaware of the hold sea waves could have on me. When my mother and father brought me to the sand, they knew only of how the sea made them feel. How could they be certain that every day after, I would spend my quiet hours looking for its symphony in seashells, postcards and moon colored dreams.

I belong to the sea the way a bee belongs to the flower, it is necessary if I am to find food and peace in my life. In the spirit of recognizing what makes life better, I dream of the sea. I dream of the sea not because it is pretty or safe, I dream of it because it is bold, wild, frightening, and yet no matter how strange or terrified swimming in the grasp of a wave can make me feel, I go on swimming and dreaming of it anyhow. Sometimes, I'll wonder if I was made for this world, but then the sea calls me and I'll know I belong somewhere.
I wish to live beside the sea, to walk my dog across the sands, to bring my children to it when they are young and unaware like I once was. I wish to wear my swimming suit and run freely into the place that feels like home to me - to feel the saltwater sugar on my skin. Today, I may live on the prairies, but I'll never stop listening for the roar of the sea.

outfit details: lime ricki swimming suit