Monday, February 27

Milkmaid in Montana,

Good morning Canada, and the rest of the pearly world.

After days spent in Montana, I am glad to be home.  I have missed the scents of vanilla that decorate my sheets, and the cracks in the corner of my kitchen. I have missed the soaps beside my bathtub, and the crumbs of dog food on the living room floor.   To travel is a beautiful thing. To return from travel with a heart gratified by home is even more beautiful.

 
 As we crossed the border, the sights of Canada remained. The mountains appeared as archways into heaven, the hills rolled like sculpted dough, and the sky was animatedly existent.  I felt very much at home in the scenery, and the weather of Northwestern Montana.  The marked camber in the hills, the well formed skyline, and the wildlife. All of it looked so familiar to me.   When I peaked through my window, there were baby deer licking road salts, and giant elk on the edge of the forest. The road curved and met land that looked parallel to the Canadian pines.  I could never fall into my pillow while at travel,  it would be a waste to sleep when the windows are a moving picture. 

The United States welcomed us with road signs, lower gas prices, statues of cowboys, and American flags.   When we arrived, we tugged at our American bills instantly to spend at a grocery market. As we walked down the aisles of prepackaged foods,  we found wild flavors of potato chips, and a number of soda flavors foreign to Canada.  By the end of an hour, our cart was filled with fats, sugars, and liquor.  (You can't be mad at belly growth when you're on vacation, it's just part of the fun.)


(Interesting fact : In Canada, alcohol is placed on the shelves of liquor stores and you must be 18 to enter. In the United States, wines and beers are placed on grocery store shelves! )

 
After market wandering, we drove through the town of Kalispell, to find our place of stay. My pa booked us a historic home located on main street.  As we drove, I marveled at the ancient wooden buildings. It was as if the streets were sprinkled with historical glow.   I imagined cowboys following dusty trails into town, with high crowned hats attached to their brow, and cotton neckerchiefs for mopping up sweat. I imagined stallions and mares. I envisioned myself a saloon girl in a petticoat bodice with hair curled like a pig's tail. . . .  For 60 ticks of the second hand, I belonged to the wild west.


Main street (where we stayed) had antique houses that were built and lived in by saloon owners, brothels, teachers, explorers, and authors.  Each house had it's own paint, along with it's own story.  The house we lived in was covered in crooked steps, and pictures of mountains. In the front yard, there was a water well designed by bricks. In the back, there was a rusty ladder for fruit picking and apples that looked like baby pumpkins covering the green.    I wish I could take the house, and it's belongings, and travel it to Calgary, so I could breath in it daily. 


The days in Montana were spent eating, looking at the sky, and trading paper money for cloth and jewelry.  I am lucky, so very lucky to be given the charms of travel, and to be given the distraction of foreign soil.  Each time I leave my country, I am reminded of how beautiful it is, and how grateful I am to be Canadian.  Travel, particularly road trips, cause me to grow more wholesome, and at peace with my surroundings.   Next stop, Honolulu (hey mom!)

Whether it's by thought, or by feet, happy travels everyone :-)


Free Image Hosting at www.ImageShack.us 
dress | clothes swap when I was in NYC | (courtesy of keiko lynn)
lace up wedges | blowfish shoes | sponsor 
jewel collar | http://www.chicwish.com/ | $18
milkmaid braid courtesy of my mum

Tuesday, February 14

the sky like a garden patch,

Hi sweet blog readers. I wish I was here for you more often. Unfortunately, I've been so idle and sluggish lately.  I haven't had much appetite for walking, or working, or cleaning the house. All I've wanted has been horizontal. I want to lay on the living room rug, counting the cracks in the roof, thinking thoughts the size of pebbles, with no purpose, or pursuit.

Some weeks are like this, it's as if your body is a dormant tree. Your thoughts grow far from labor, you need not give birth to fruits, or heels of movement. All you do is watch the blowing air, and slowly creep among the house and it's inhabitants.

Yesterday, the clouds appeared swollen, and the sky gave birth to falling snow.  Today, there is an azure sky above the steeples and the hills. It's Valentines day, and all I can think of is how beautiful the shapes, the hues, and the rhythms of our world are.

Our World
The waterways flow like an endless circle, the sun rises for us to walk, the sun drops for us to sleep, the wind combs the valley of fallen leaves, the fragrance of love resides in a woman's breasts, and
the rose blooms inside the father's sweat.   The grounds of my earth, and the endless mystery of sky constantly reminds me why I stay here, why I blush here, why I weep here, why I labor here, and why I love here.

The sky appears like a garden patch, and we wear eyes that watch the woods, that steer our bones,  and eyes that expand at the sight of our Mother. We carry lips that kiss soft spots, that drool on cookies, and lips that deliver words without envelopes.  We live in houses made of brick, made of stone, made of wood, and houses made of glass.  Inside our houses, there are mothers, baby cheeks, and creaks made by our loved one's footsteps.

It does not take one day in February to melt my heart, or to sprinkle adoration on my eyes. I press the common air of every day - and I marvel at it's beauty.  Whether your tongue belongs to someone, or your body is pressed against their memory. Whether your resting your hands, or your looking for someone to hold hands with. Whether you're in love with the sky, or in love with the brown haired girl from the market.  Remember this The world around you is made from cradles and paintings of gold. If you don't have a suitor to thank, a blue eyed babe to hold, or a friend to bake bread for, you still have so much to live for, so much to love for.

Look out your window. Listen to the breathings of your own heart.  Happy Valentines day, Happy February, Happy tomorrow, Happy every day !


P.S

I'm going to Montana on Saturday......  I'm going to cross the border........  I am eager to sit by the lake, and buy myself American food. Hello Almond Joy and Vanilla Coke!

Here's some love from Ari....


Free Image Hosting at www.ImageShack.us 
what I wore
pink faux fur | forever 21 |$20
floral dress | value village | $8
white wedges | aldo | $40
floral socks | claires | $2
blue bow socks | claires | $2


Monday, February 6

Two socks made of kites

It's February. The sun cradles the porch while the city folk's grin at the weather.  Every morning feels like Spring, I'd be surprised if little insects weren't pulling through the cracks in the dirt soon.

To celebrate the weather, I wore my favorite socks. When I wear them, it's as if I've taken the blue of the sky with sweet baby kites and stitched them to my feet.....  I never thought I'd find socks that say "amy flying a kite" but I did... ^.^

Yesterday,  I spent the night weeping.  It was as if the moon was pulling at my eyes, and I just had to cry at the weight of it all.   My hair was down, and knotted. My tired hands were clawing at my banjo. I wanted somebody to comb through my hair. I couldn't quite stretch my fingers to make a pleasant sound. It was as if the world was on my shoulders, and all of the weather's sunny shapes forgot about me.

It's funny how the world goes on. Whether you're pale and slow, the clouds will still part, the bud will still flower, and the clocks in the canteen will still roll.  The day does not wait to turnover just because you're afraid of tomorrow. The hour does not pause for you to water your plants.  The earth keeps wildly revolving, and no matter how long you weep, the sun still rises on the other side of the world.

After an hour or so of weeping, I feel much better.  I think a few tears in the bucket, every so often, is the equivalent of chicken feed for the hen coop. Each drop of salt running down my cheek brings me consolation, it's as if I've been fed food or medicine.  When Carter watched me after I cried he said "It's like you've taken a pill, or seen a god of some sorts."

Sometimes, I wonder..am I the only girl in the world soothed by tears?
What do you think about crying? Does it make you feel better? Is it therapeutic?
Does it make you feel bruised? Does it feel like a waste?
I'd love to hear your thoughts!

See y'all on the Sunny side.




Free Image Hosting at www.ImageShack.us 
what i wore

floral dress | handmade vintage | $5
pink shawl | value village | $5
sun hat | value village | $10
kite socks | forever 21 | $3
tights | betsey johnson | gift
wedges | aldo | gift

Thursday, February 2

january // amy & ashley ramble and roam,

I remember now, how lucky we are, to find companions in pens, in songs, in our dogs, and in the people who surround us underneath sun droops and moon beams.  Some folks spend their wholes lives shaking dust off of old friends, chasing invisible faces, settling for spoons, and solitude. Some folks never meet an honest friend.  

For a long while, I spent my baby fat days imagining I'd be one of those folks.  When I was in school,  I saw unrecognizable faces, and soon after elementary ended, I grew fond of wishing I was elsewhere, elsewhere meaning a place where my boots licked daisies, with friends who understood the meaning of life was to labor on good things. A place where the sun rose for dreamers.  Unfortunately, I couldn't name one person, through my days of school, that didn't dash my hopes of a true friend.  Some would say, it's not an easy life for the girl who's Mom is her best friend, or for the girl who's Friday night curiosity lingers towards a poetry book  -instead of a bottle of champagne. And I'll say, it wasn't easy, but it's the way of travel in life that leads us to our destination.  If I had felt a sense of belonging in those rooms - where I spent time as a 15 year old, I would never know the life I have now.  It is the quarrels and the curiosity that led me to being Amy.

I am fortunate to say that now, I do know beautiful people,  beautiful humble honest people, and my Ashley is one of them. 

 
Last week, Ashley and I found ourselves eating breakfast sandwiches and sipping water at a coffee shop near my house.  Each day spent beside Ashley is a day spent chattering like song birds. We meet at 11 am, and suddenly, three oh clock rolls in, and there's still room left for music.  This is our second post together, you can visit her sweet sugary blog here          Don't let the snow fool you. Through all of January, this was the one day where a white blanket laid it's bed all over the city. I can assure you, the very next day, the sun melted the bed, and solid ground was found underneath our feet.  

 Ashley and I have plotted many more rambling adventures, including a video post, which may or may not be a good idea. We'll let you decide ^.^

I hope all of you have an honest friend, and if not, you'll find one holding your hand soon.
Kisses!



Free Image Hosting at www.ImageShack.us 
what i wore
floral dress | www.ravenouscreatures.com | sponsor
white faux fur vest | H&M | $15
brown boots | www.atseoul.com | sponsor

what ashley wore
dress | vintage |
tights | joe fresh |
boots | chinese laundry
sweater | aritzia