a deer eating lunch

After days of feeling like the kid at show & tell that doesn't have anything to show or tell, I decided to wander further outside. I was hoping to find a colorful bird or a skinned knee I could take home to show everybody. I felt like my own backyard was not enough and that I should climb the fence to get to an adventure. Carter was feeling the same way and if you can find somebody who shares your feelings, grab their hands and go. Exploring is always better when you're together.

We put our feet to the sidewalk and started walking. The day was too hot for wearing boots but I didn't know where we'd end up so boots seemed like a safe bet. We had no plans on turning back until late in the day so we packed a frosted can of iced tea and granola.

It was only 15 minutes of wandering before we came upon a wild thing, a deer was eating lunch on the grassy hill. She didn't seem to mind that we were struck by wonder and staring in her direction. As long as we stayed quiet, she would keep munching the grass and flowers.  If we made a noise, her big ears would twitch like the antenna on a radio or a bug.

 It was a lucky thing that I had my camera with me for evidence in case anybody doubted that I spent my afternoon watching a deer forage. I think if people know you like writing stories, they're bound to think you like inventing stories too, and maybe what you say happened in your day didn't really happen.  If you keep a camera in your pocket at all times, it is like having an extra pair of eyes, proof that some story-tellers aren't just telling fables.

The sight of something wild inhabits the body like music. I did not need to climb, swim or skin my knees to find something that filled my heart with joy and adventure. A deer fifteen minutes from home and a can of frosted iced tea on a summer's day was enough for me.

Floral Shirt Dress boutique onze c/o || Boots DNA footwear c/o || Floral Backpack • gift from mom when she visited Italy
Blog Lovin        Twitter           Facebook       Instagram

The Jellyfish Hair Bun

I was planning on writing this post sooner but August always gets the best of me. It is the final month of summer plans and all I can think about is the mountains I promised to climb in June and July but never did. I try to hold each ray of August sunshine in my hand -- the same way you try to squeeze each drop of lemon into a cup right before a party -- sometimes it feels like time wears running shoes. 

The only way to keep our August sun from dying, before I am ready to see it go, is to always be outside. Every meal should be eaten on the back porch, tulip beds should replace mattresses, thistles should not damper a day and sprinklers should be made into dance floors.

 Overalls & Sunglasses Choies c/o || Hair bow Claires
Blog Lovin        Twitter           Facebook       Instagram

Dream-ers: A Vintage Inspired Boutique

dream•er (ˈdri mər)
1. a person who dreams. 
2. a person who escapes into a world of fantasy

I'm always looking for boutiques that celebrate the beauty of those who dream through their clothing. I want dresses that appear like clouds, details that appear like crocheted flower petals and designs that make me feel comfortable and free. Sometimes finding a boutique that suits your taste seems as unlikely as spotting a bear through binoculars.

I found Dream-ers and it was adoration at first glance. The boutique is home to flower-patterned lace dresses, vintage inspired shapes and enough earthly beauty to make a saint swoon. My favorite thing about Dream-ers is how they continue to practice the art of being a seamstress. Each piece is hand crafted and carefully put together which is hard to find in this age of machines and mass production. The work of a seamstress allows the freedom to order a customized fit, how nice to feel beautiful no matter the shape you arrived in!

The founder Yanique worked at Chanel for 5 years and it was there where she began to dream of starting her own label. She witnessed on-site seamstresses and a generous amount of effort and quality that went into creating each piece. Yanique herself is a dreamer and believes in following through on those little thoughts that float through your head. If she hadn't pursued those dreams that may have once seemed crazy, dream-ers would have never been born.  
(!) Note to dreamers: go climb that mountain!

It is a beautiful boutique so I put together images of my favorite pieces. 
If I were to be wed tomorrow, I'd be happy to wear any one of these as my wedding dress


The Bird Story

I used to love those stories - the ones you'd expect to read in a wilderness guide or a fantasy novel. The stories about birds coming close to feed humans with their warble or humans caring for an injured animal on the side of a road. Stories about the interaction between human and wild creature always kept me intrigued. The other day I became a character in one of those stories, albeit probably less fascinating.


We were drinking an early brew on the porch when we heard a swooping noise. I looked towards the May tree and saw two little birds that appeared to be dancing. One kept lifting his wing and scooping air with his beak while the other remained still as a stone. I thought they were acting peculiar but if you watch anything wild for long enough you'll realize that everything is strange.

The smaller bird of the two, the one that appeared calm and quiet, suddenly dropped from the sky and into the trunk of the tree. I rushed towards it as if my instinct was a policeman's radio. I felt something was wrong and for a moment I wanted my shoulder's to belong to a hero.

The bird kept trying to fly, only raising itself an inch above ground before falling again. It was hard to watch something so beautiful struggle to get home. I wanted to give the bird directions, maybe draw her out a map or flap my arms to remind her how wings are supposed to work. But it was clear she knew the mechanics of flying, she just wasn't able to.

I did not want to touch the bird because she was so fragile and I am inexperienced with broken wild things. Carter suggested we place birdseed on the fence, he thought it might encourage her to keep trying. After a few more attempts at fighting the devil that is gravity, she finally made it to the meal we placed on the wooden fence. All of this time she kept cocking her head towards Carter. He thought he was an accomplished bird whisperer, but my bet's on the bird thinking his beard would make a mighty nest.

I'll admit we're not walking bird encyclopedias, we're just two people that want to see nature work the way it was meant to. Rain is supposed to drop, birds are supposed to fly.  

 We looked at each other, wondering how to plant a spark in the wind that would carry this bird home. The closer I got to her, the more I wanted to whisper stay? but I knew that was a cruel and selfish question. Birds aren't meant for human houses, they're bound for sticks and worms.

For reasons unknown, I felt a deep empathy and understanding of the flightless bird. I know what some of you are thinking - it is just a bird, a tenor for a choir, just one of many wild things that has lost it's way. But to me, it was more than just a broken-winged bird. It was every dream I've ever had in the shape of a house sparrow. I thought to myself, "If a bird without working wings can take flight, my dreams can take flight too."

The bird lifted its head one more time and rose into the air. This time there was no falling, only miles and miles of aromas, sound and sky.

  White Top - Value Village | Trousers - Mexx | Brown Heels - Value Village

♡ Follow ♡ 
Blog Lovin         Twitter           Facebook
If the sight of the blue skies
fills you with joy,
if a blade of grass springing up in the fields
has power to move you,
if the simple things of nature have a message
that you understand,
rejoice, for your soul is alive — Eleonora Duse