When I was younger, I thought life would always go on the same, a strong rock of routine and comforting sameness. It hasn't, though.

There is still routine and normalcy, but it's not the kind that made up my childhood. Now, as I'm growing older, I have to know that trips to Germany and days spent bicycling through the countryside and leisurely breakfasts that last until one in the afternoon aren't always going to be a part of my life. There will be moments that come close to the ones of now, in flashes of deja vu, but it won't be the same, because time marches on and the past must be released. And as I sit here in my grandparent's kitchen, the one where so many meals and laughter and bonding have been shared, I desperately try to cling to and memorize what makes this special.

Things like spending an evening at the ranch feeding the animals and reminiscing in that old camper that's still sitting there after all those years.
Things like teaching Lilly to bicycle on that little strip of asphalt in front of the house, my lungs burning from breathing hard the chilled air.
Things like walking through the town square for the first time in two years and quickly eating ice cream, trying to finish it before it melts but savoring each bite at the same time and, despite my best efforts, still getting brainfreeze.
Things like ignoring the ever-present pressing need to be doing something and just sitting and talking, content in stillness and being with family.
Things like, after rainrainrain and cloudscloudsclouds, seeing the sun parting the clouds, spilling light everywhere and thinking it's all going to be okay, even if just for a little while. (i'm still really ready for the sun to come out all day, though)
Things like running my hand over all the little treasures stored up on windowsills and cabinets, breathing in their scent and studying the tiny details.
Things like the luxury of actually getting to spend time with grandparents, just me and them.

And things like realizing what makes it all special and being able to be thankful with it, and also, realizing it's already 1:52pm and I've wasted far too much time at this screen. Powering down and going to go make some more memories.

The past twenty four hours have been cold air blowing from the vents and endless connections and just wanting a place to stretch out already! Also, people watching. I wanted to muster up the courage to talk to them and ask them where they are headed, or maybe just ask if they want to talk and truly listen to the words that spill from their lips. (for the record, I was too scared. next time maybe?)

Outside the glass, the sky was filled with pillow-y clouds, pierced through by planes making their course through the sky. No matter how many times I fly, knowing that you can get on a machine that flies through the sky, sit a few hours, and land in a completely different world fills me with an incredible wonder,

For the next two months, I'm in Germany visiting family. This is my twelfth time over here and I cannot tell you how wonderful it is to be back (it was also wonderful to eat something other than plane food. blech. there's only so much of that stuff you can take!). I'm so happy to be speaking German again and be surrounded by this wonderful world of family and memories. When I walked into my grandparents' house this afternoon, I breathed in the familiar smells and sights. In a world of changechangechange, I love the knowledge that this house will remain virtually the same no matter the year. Sure, there will be new things here and there, but it will still be my grandparents' house and there is nothing that will ever change that. And in addition to reliving memories, we have quite a few little trips planned here and there and I am so excited. I hope my time here in Europe will be the refresher and rejuvenation I've been needing.

Alright, I'm off to rest these sleep-deprived weary bones (this darn jetlag/time change thing is throwing me off)...catch ya later! I can't wait to share these next few weeks with you.

June has almost slipped through my fingers and all I have motivation to do is read (and read and read) and go to the pool. These next few weeks will be madness and I'm not ready to let go of these lazy summer days quite yet.
At the end of every month, I always have a small collection of leftover photographs. They're hidden deep in the depths of a folder, never having seen the light of day. Usually I leave them be and look at them from time to time, but these images wiggled their way into my heart and I couldn't ignore their silent plea to be heard before the month is out. So here are the forgotten frames, the misfits that never quite fit into earlier blog posts. They're happy now, and so am I. (and yes, I make a bond with each of my photos. just call me crazy) 

How is summer faring for you?

I've never had much of a green thumb. Or rather, maybe I had the teeniest hint of a green thumb that never saw the light of day because I was too lazy to try. Regardless, I tended my own little plot of soil in the family garden this year. I watered and babied my plants faithfully and my efforts were soon rewarded. There is nothing like picking sun-warmed blackberries off the vine, popping cherry tomatoes like candy, or biting into a freshly pulled carrot, dirt still clinging to the crevices. Then there's the magical feeling of soil sifting through your fingers, rich and damp, the proud sensation of seeing tiny jewels of color poking up amid the green, and the pure elation of harvesting produce grown by your own hands. It takes work and dedication, but it's worth every moment. Though the idea has been brutally romanticized over the years, there's a part of me that aches to move to the country and work on a farm. There's a certain beauty in hard work and in the act of growing, producing, and eating your own food. I could probably never be a proper farmer, but sometimes it's so very appealing.

Do you garden?