at least one will make you feel like running away

A delightfully belated birthday gift that arrived in the mail a few days back. Here are some of it's treasures...

I would strongly suggest getting your own copy here.

then he turned the bluebells

I spent this past weekend at my Grandparent's cottage, as did the rest of my family and quite a few others. While it was cheery to be surrounded by so many people that I spent my childhood summers with, it didn't leave much time for any exploring. I managed to sneak away for a quick adventure in the trails behind the cottage.  I was hoping to find a part of the forest that I remember seeing as child, but don't think I went far enough on the trail. It may also just be that this part of the forest is not in fact a childhood memory, but the setting of a story I once read titled Bruno's Revenge by Lewis Carroll.

Girls with flower names fade fast

A few days ago, on a lovely sunny day that turned into quite a silly night. This week has been tiring for no apparent reasons, hopefully next week will sort itself out.

she is my storming heroine

The twenty blades cut cause a fault in her foundation. The remaining eleven buckle under the pressure. She believes he saw this moment, her captured body in his bed. Even from fourteen, when he jumped below the succeeding mountains of granite into a five foot pool of water which threatened his existence. He would not dare to carve his name in stone that surrounded such demise. He left this place with these tales of death burrowed in his ears, and he would often recount them to her. She would sit, fingernails picking at slivers on the picnic table, as he told her his childhood stories. And she would give to him a limited selection of her own death stories in return, to let him know it was most common. But when she spoke, his eyes followed the peter pan shadow that detached itself from her body and moved east along the house’s panelled siding. He often found this occurrence to just be a small bird, that had been hidden behind her, flying south. Dozens of these moments passed between them. Where words spoken were muddled by distracting shadows floating by. While he became curious towards images of strange men walking across his headboard, she found herself spinning truths from threads left on the kitchen counter. The threads mimicked the knotted rope which held her hands, and they both found themselves under captivity.

*This was just a continuation of a piece that I have been working on in the past year. You can read the beginning here if you so choose...this section of it seems quite morose compared to the smile filled mood I was in writing it. happy sunday!

will you take me as I am, strung out on another man

Just a Friday afternoon, before the day gets started. This lovely blouse found its way to me as a gift from my darling roommate Lindsay, and I want to wear it everyday! Joni Mitchell's California is on repeat.
that's all for now, xoxo.

It's Not as Long as this Country Mile

Last Saturday I had the pleasure of travelling to the country to my uncle's farm. The drive, though a daunting hour and a half, was most lovely. I gushed over white farm houses and small gardens, and stood in awe of a town with hundred of windmills set up throughout it. When we finally arrived, my uncle gave us a tour of his property (I hadn't been there since I was around twelve). It's isolated location made me feel as if I could explore for days and days, and I was told at the end of the property there are a bunch of trails that lead through a forest. He also has built a lovely cabin near the road, with a loft space for sleeping that is just darling. I may have to take him up on his offer to come stay. The entire day was spent lounging by the pond with family, save for one small adventure with my puppies Charley and Buster. Here are some of the photographs I took around the farm and in the back fields.

tea for two, and two for tea

We had a lovely time at the park yesterday, celebrating my birthday. I'm becoming quite the old maid.

It was a weekend filled up with tiny treasures, all of which I'm too excited to show you in the upcoming days!

For now, I hope you too enjoy these photographs of our afternoon.

and get yourself free

Thursday afternoon, after a nap; my two favourite things come together in one frame. Stanford, my once again thriving flower basket, and this lace bandeau I have been wearing around the house for days.

A War Against February

I finished reading Shane Jones' Light Boxes a few weeks ago, and have been harboring these delicious photographs for some time. The novel is so magical and endearing. My heart was broken and repaired several times over, and I felt as if I were one of the members of the town, joining in the battle against February. Balloonists, kites drawn on arms to remember flight, underground tunnels, and villains living day to day life above the clouds are what make up this delightful short novel. I don't think I'll see another hot air balloon without imagining Thaddeus' plight.

how long has it been since you have stared in awe at flight?

I'll write you harmony

Last Friday found my roommate Andrew(quite the stylish chap) and I on a dazzling adventure to see Metric. We were a little late (missed both the openers) mainly due to our chatty nature and random inclination to take these photos to commemorate our night. It was a lovely time,  as we got to spend the entire show lounging on our picnic blanket, except towards the end where we went a little dance crazy. Our dancing carried on (to excessive amounts of Whitney Houston, Hall and Oates, and Mariah Carey) until morning at the always inventive Atlantic, on Dundas, where this weeks added quirk was a black light and body paint. My white blouse will need copious amounts of dry cleaning. Speaking of white, congratulations to Andie at Heartbeat Melody on her engagement! (If you haven't yet, you should definitely head to her lovely blog!) In other white dress news, I am still on the hunt for a Birthday Dress. While I was thinking about giving up the search, UO's A New Dress campaign seemed to be the universe's way of telling me to keep at it. I have made a tradition of buying myself a new dress every birthday,and it does seem like too darling of a tradition to break. please excuse the mediocre post, my mind is birthday crazed.

I'm glad to see you

This morning I dance on printed rosebuds, while one floor below pedals bloom in the kitchen. I reenact a balcony scene. I am sure this is what has given life to the flowers once again.


*more from this morning on flickr...

Neopolitian Dreams

What a weekend full of surprise. A Friday in the park, writing a confessional letter. A Saturday afternoon spent biking to the beach as well as thrifting a few treats to send overseas for a lovely girl's belated birthday. A late night (or early morning) rooftop adventure (bruises are proof of my bravery) featuring swaying to this darling favorite. A Sunday evening heart to heart with my favorite girl in the world, followed by some biking down Shaw street and neopolitian ice cream.

Here are the stories for the collages I posted last week. I won't be reposting the photos, so let it be a fun little challenge to guess which image matches which story! These are definitely still a work in progress.

"All that was seen of her was done so behind curtains of lace. Revealing a lip here, a shoulder blade there, the fullness of her composition was sectioned off by threads. "

"Her words came out upside down, and rested themselves upon the collection of daisies. Like in glass, the words took a foreign shape. "

"His cornea became scratched with flecks of paint from her window sill. His almond eye still looks for her."

"As she buried her face in the sand, the grains crystallized into shards that embedded themselves in her skin. The wind blew it's ribbons in full gust, but they were not shed."

"The flowers nestled themselves in her navel. They split themselves and returned, multiplied by the water that pooled in her hips."

*I had a random lovely thought (or at least I think it is lovely) after leaving my bike locked outside a boys house all day while I was at work. I wasn't sure at what point I was going to go back this evening to get it. Suppose he had seen the bike there throughout the day, and then at one point left the house for a few hours. When he comes home in the evening,  it is gone. Evidence that I had been there. Maybe it's just me, but I find something truly romantic about knowing that someone had been in a particular place at a particular time just by an object that they have left, or in this case taken with them.

Do you suppose she's a wildflower?

Now that we're finally in July, I feel that I can start planning my birthday without the worries of feeling too self obsessed! I have wanted to have a tea party forever, but in the last few years I think I have been trying to shed my little girl image, thus have opted for more 'mature' themes. Not this year. Why not embrace my love of floral sundresses and cupcakes on my twenty third birthday? Think tea at grandma's house meets Lux Lisbon. This year's party will be a tea and picnic outing at Trinity Bellwoods (most likely with wine in lieu of actual tea). These photos are my inspiration for the (hopefully!) wonderful day.

I am in love with the idea of getting my hands on as many pillows and blankets as possible to sprawl about the park. How charming would that be?

I absolutely adore this. I am hoping the afternoon will last on into the evening, and if so these lanterns would look so enchanting. I'm thinking of using glass jars with candles for this effect, but in light of the whole wine instead of tea thing, it might be a tad dangerous!

And of course this is just wonderful. Streamers sloping from trees, rosebushes, dancing and flowers in hair.

I hope we capture the whimsy of this photograph.

List of Supplies:

pillows, blankets, cupcakes, teacups and teapot, jelly beans, mini sandwiches, bubbles

wine, twister, streamers, sparklers, macaroons from Nadege

punch bowl filled with delicious punch (spiked of course)

all of my lovelies

*speaking of Birthdays, my wonderful roommate Andrew's just passed, and this is what we made him.

I believe I mentioned a secret surprise in an earlier post. Well, this is it.

It's quite embarrassing, but to be taken in good humor.

don't say in a letter what you can't in my ear

These are some collages I made the other day for a project I am working on, that will hopefully be coming to life in the next week or two, called Letters to Bellwoods. At first I didn't like them at all, but after stepping back for a day, I have grown a bit more fond of them. Each one will be accompanied by a two or three sentence story, but I'm still working on those.
enjoy! xoxo

*All of the images were compiled from an assortment of Nylon magazines lying around my living room.

that I'm a gardener, I'm a man in your eyes.

It has come as a great surprise to me, this overwhelming desire to get out of the city as the summer sets in. I can't help daydreaming about running away to some deserted farm house with this man, and starting our lives together. I can tell just by the way that his shoulders slump forward when he greets me, or by the half smile that tortures his lips as we sit on my porch in silence, that this escape would be good for him too. He, the carpenter, would build our wooden house with his hands. In summers to come, the white paint peeling from panelled siding would show the success of our flight.

Since it doesn't seem this daydream will come true in the near future, this will have to be a substitute.