white circles and banjos look like clocks,

 Good day to you, whether it's the blush of morning, or the goosebumps of moon hour,  I hope for you that the day is charming, and brimming with good intentions.  For me, the day is busy, but my body is able.  I must push pencil marks onto papers, sketching the words "complete" on my to-do lists. Some days, I am far too slow to follow these tasks. You know, whether it be school, blog work, melody making, house cleaning, or tea drinking..... It becomes a task in itself to make any sort of progress. Today is one of those slow-as-a-slug-kind-of days.

This is my whole life, from a babe to a veteran, I will always find great difficulty in harmonizing my days without falling off of track.  Each day, I plot my hours in my head, as if for once, I'll tidy the room, soak my feet,  feed the dogs, play banjo, call my loves, make a wholesome snack, write a poem, write a short story, send off emails, walk in the weather, write letters, or finish an assignment.   Yet, when the clock chimes, and the Sun drops, I find myself day dreaming.  At 2 pm, I am imagining a kingdom, or a plot of land I will sow someday. At 4 pm, I am seeing a monkey, or an animal I've never met.  At 6 pm, my dreams are of plucking my banjo to a warming crowd.  And by 8 pm, I am dreaming of ocean side porches, and caramel popcorn.

I spend so many hours within these pipe dreams - that before I even realize my head is elsewhere, the moon has already blanketed the hills.  This is why I know I'll never be the breadwinner, or the nine to fiver, because my head is never where my feet are.

 The past week has traveled quicker than a whippet chasing a bone.  I closed my eyes on Wednesday, and suddenly, Monday was here.  Everyday the weather has been so pleasant. It's as if our town never welcomed winter, and we've been stuck in an eternal spring.  I am not begging for snow - or wishing for predictable January clouds, instead, I am luxuriating in the warmth.  I do not cry because I cannot wear mittens, or because Winter never came, and for those who do, please take a cotton cloth and rest it on your cheek. The strange weather patterns never frighten me, and they shouldn't cause your frown. I think the world is strange enough, why waste my days worrying about the weather.

Last night, I went to the Ironwood, my absolute favorite place of breathing in Calgary. It's a tavern-like bar in the Inglewood district, and it's where my life was found, I swear.  Each time I have gone there, I have left with different inner workings.  You see, the Ironwood is home to a stage where different country/blues/folk/bluegrass musicians come to sing. The atmosphere is unpretending, and warm, a bit like you'd imagine your own home to feel.

 Last night, a band from Winnipeg named The Crooked Brothers plucked their strings, fine tooth combed their words, and caused my heart beats to bend to a new pattern.  It was as if I had found a place to belong, a place where day dreaming was unnecessary, because reality was enough.  I was so grateful to spend the experience with my closest companions - Carter, my ma, and my pa.  Some people spend their wholes lives searching for memories, and last night, I welcomed a memory that will sit within my belly for the rest of my life.

Kisses to you all.

 
what i wore

polka dot dress | value village | $10
wedges | aldo shoes | $40
socks | ardenes | $2
black blouse | value village | $5

banjo necklace | etsy | $30 

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