182/365

things I want to remember about may:

paradise garden on the very first day
the most perfect early eighties striped shirt
the seed packets I stopped and bought on the way home
the way they filled me with hope
the way it felt to put them in the ground
the first lightning bugs of the season
writing about howard
school kids in red shirts at the high, laughing and talking and wondering about art
listening to cassette tapes with my brother
watching him play frisbee with ezra from the bedroom window
the reading of library books in the hammock
red beans and rice and mexican cokes on nate's birthday
cousins with flashlights in country graveyards
the table we made from trash
how good it felt to stain that wood
how good it felt to make something
the hummingbird that hovered right outside my window
the makeshift newspaper paint palette ezra brought home from art class because he knew I'd love it
holding the vase he made, wearing the pendant he made
string lights like necklaces in the backyard
howard on repeat
fleabag on repeat
the most perfectly roasted marshmallow
topo chico in bottles, always
the painting ava made me
the tiny origami sun ezra made me
a mother's day floor picnic, with pizza and netflix 
the way I felt when I saw that the first of the seeds had pushed through the soil
(I almost cried)
gudrun and her mom and her dad and the garden and the pink plastic flamingos
mint leaves in my water, between my fingers
the cherry red watering can I bought myself
the way the goldfinch trailer made me cry
the stories my dad told
the cleaning of the seashells, the way they looked in the sun 

painting, finally

the last day of school
the slow, lovely unraveling of that ironclad routine
the unofficial beginning of summer
cut gardenias in jars on the very last day

181/365

words I enjoy saying in french:

parfois
pomme
dimanche
les enfants
nuit

180/365

on repeat today:

sufjan's new song
the the first official trailer for a film based on a book I love, a book I love so, so much

179/365

reasons books will never ever die:

they do not require internet
they do not need to be charged
they are always just sitting there, waiting for you, patiently

178/365

to do, in preparation for summer:

hand wash the favorite blouse
stash scissors in glove box for roadside cuttings

make room in the tiny freezer for flav-o-ice and the inevitable overabundance of berries

scan the thrifts for jeans to cut up

make the summer reading list

make the summer playlist

hang the straw hat right by the front door

177/365

sunday night things:

dark movie theatres
leftover easter candy
motorized reclining chairs
AC on full blast
my brother's laugh

176/365

saturday night things:

lightning bugs
bottles of mandarin jarritos
glow in the dark croquet
an exquisitely roasted marshmallow
my dad's laugh

175/365

things I'm doing this weekend:

picking the strawberries
eating the strawberries
washing the strawberries down with topo chico

174/365

books I read in my early twenties that profoundly influenced me:

song of solomon (toni morrison)
a tree grows in brooklyn  (betty smith)
their eyes were watching god (zora neale hurston)
like water for chocolate (laura esquival)
slaves of new york (tama janowitz)
I know why the caged bird sings (maya angelou)
the bell jar (sylvia plath)

173/365

things I treated myself to today:

a cold bottle of topo chico
another packet of zinnia seeds
a jar of bonne maman lemon curd
the last fifteen minutes of the last episode of fleabag (season two) whilst eating a tiny cupcake

172/365

paint chips I brought home today because I liked the way they sounded:

fresh tangerine
bubblegum pink
moroccan sky
buttered sweet corn
coral flower
fire cracker
watermelon punch
corn moon
whip lash

p.s. whip lash was a shocking shade of red.

p.p.s. I would please like to name paint colors for a living. 

171/365

guilty pleasures, part two:

twinkies
television in bed
cereal for dinner
buzzfeed quizzes
cherry anything

170/365

sunday scents:

mint leaves
bonfire smoke
honeysuckle

I don't need much else, really.

169/365

things I miss, part three:

first kisses
the pacific ocean
rotary phones
downtown cincinnati
nineties hip hop

168/365

books checked out from the library:

easy growing (gayla trail)
herb gardening from the ground up (sal gilbertie/larry sheehan)
small plot big harvest (lucy halsall)
the anxious gardner's book of answers (teri dunn chace)

if this gives you any idea where my head is these days.

167/365

things seen today:

a hummingbird just outside the window
a banana the size of a human person at the thrift store
the first nasturtium seed sprout in my garden
a bird with a piece of white plastic in her mouth
the very first lightning bug of the season

166/365

things that feel like a betrayal:

every time an ad appears somewhere it shouldn't
every time my hair defiantly curls under on its own
every time something I've loved for a really long time goes mainstream

every time blogger auto switches my font from helvetica to georgia

every time I see (and hear) that horrible, terrible, heretical pharmaceutical commercial jingle that uses the jackson five's ABC 

165/365

places I'd like to spend the night, part two:

in this super pink love nest
in this here joshua tree hacienda
in pretty much any one of these european sleeper cars, going anywhere, any time

164/365

places I'd like to spend the night, part one:

in this lil idaho potato
in this old airport terminal
in one of these here trailers with a rainbow blanket on the bed

163/365

things my mother taught me:

how to be silly
how to be generous
how to pick strawberries and blackberries
how to make a lot with a little
how to bake brownies from scratch
how to make a home feel like home
how to make birthdays inordinately special
how to cultivate collections
how to honor family heirlooms
how to make the library a regular part of life
how to keep a prayer journal
how to road trip on a shoestring budget
how to wrap presents all pretty-like
how to paint nails all pretty-like
how to look at things realistically
how to make christmas feel like magic
how to put on a pair of pantyhose
how to throw a humdinger of a yard sale
how to rock mary kay cosmetics
how to work the fleamarket like a pro
how to bake red velvet cake 
how to bake gooey butter cake
how to make groceries stretch for days
how to care for people
how to love God
how to be thankful
how to laugh
how to cry

I miss you, mom.

162/365

songs I can't stop singing:

just a lil tack in the shingle of your roof (reverend howard finster)
I am going to make it through this year if it kills me (the mountain goats)
dreams, take 2 (fleetwood mac)

no really, I can't stop. 

161/365

things I had trouble with today:

the meeting of a deadline
the writing of this list

160/365

sounds recently heard, noted, enjoyed:

a cassette tape rewinding
ezra asleep in the next room
the hiss of the kettle
the heaviest rain
a thunderous gaggle of kids at the art museum
birds in the backyard
joni mitchell on vinyl
a million migrating monarch butterflies
the faint ring-ring of ava's bicycle bell as she rode up the driveway

the grinding of coffee beans (because, I know what this means)

159/365

words I had to stop and look up in the dictionary in april:

impecunious
conflagration
nascent
declension
stentorian
vertiginous
obstreperous

158/365

things that happened on this day, twenty-nine years ago:

decided I liked this one guy
let him kiss me
fell in love

(we were babies)

157/365

hopeful things:

seed packets
train tickets
rolls of film
new notebooks
morning

156/365

films I could watch over and over and over again:

crooklyn
bottle rocket
the before trilogy
frances ha
flirting with disaster
basquiat
roma
in america
slaves of new york
rushmore
twentieth century women
moonlight
almost famous
dazed and confused
junebug
murial's wedding
bridesmaids
walking and talking
working girl
ladybird
say anything
school of rock
slums of beverly hills
reality bites
swingers
party girl
amelie

155/365

things I'm excited to plant this week:

sunflowers
zinnias
mint
basil
spinach
rosemary
cosmos
chamomile
lemon balm
daisies
peppers
oregano
nasturtiums
cherry tomatoes
so many cherry tomatoes

154/365

books I read in april:

sleeping by the mississippi (alec soth)
the clothing of books (jhumpa lahiri)
little fires everywhere (celeste ng)
becoming (michelle obama)
shrill: notes from a loud woman (lindy west)
the yellow wallpaper (charlotte perkins gilman)

153/365

things I want to remember about april:

my feet in the ocean
easter sunday with my dad
the beginnings of a garden
the sound of ava's bicycle bell
typewriter poetry 
hours and hours in old savannah book shops
the girl in the peach prom dress at three o'clock on a wednesday afternoon
live oaks, spanish moss
the words of carrie mae weems, live
new leaf on the plant near the window, slowly unfurling
the mashing of potatoes
the comfort of cable television in budget motel rooms
the kids riding bikes to the underpass 
record store day at wuxtry
joni mitchell on luminous blue vinyl
ava's art scholarship, sunlight on her face
lemon yellow ranunculus
thick air, soft air
the facing of a monumental fear
the tiny pink flowers ezra brought me
an easter egg hunt for teenagers
a small assortment of collected shells
the zip-whir sounds of the SX-70
william christenberry at the high with ward
ezra's vase, the shine in his eyes
the first cookout of the season
paradise garden on the very last day of the month
the beginnings of all the honeysuckle

152/365

on this first day of may:

plans, considered
breeze, appreciated
honeysuckle, noted