227/365

things that happened today (it was a hard day) after I officially gave up:

hard cider found me, around two in the afternoon 
(poured it into a mug so as to give the impression I was having a nice cup of tea)
a cardinal landed on the lower branch of a tree in back, which I did take as a hopeful sign
two gulf fritillary butterflies made their way through my garden and I wished for one to land on my hand, I wished so hard 
(I wanted another sign, the cardinal was not enough)
the world took on a weight I knew existed but had not felt in a while
the floor called my name, so I went to it
(the floor feels glorious when you've given up)
the questioning found me, I fell into that too
(questioned everything, including this ridiculous list project)
broke down, texted the friend who is maybe (probably) not really a real friend
took my foot off the proverbial brake, let the night glide to stillness
(and by this, I mean I baked a peach cobbler around ten, ate it while watching stranger things in the dark with the kids)

I will read this list one day and I will roll my eyes. I am sure of it.

226/365

things about sunday:

the kitchen, heavy with the scent of ripening peaches
ava, her first show, the selling of her first painting, the look she gave me from across the room
the moon, an opaline smudge in the sky

225/365

things I miss, part four:

mixtapes
the lilacs that grew next to our house in portland
family roadtrips in the stationwagon
lakewood fleamarket
my bike

224/365

vegetables and herbs and flowers growing and blooming in my garden right now:

zinnias
marigolds
nasturtiums
crimson-colored dahlias
diablo blend cosmos
lemon queen sunflowers
cherry tomatoes
italian large leaf basil
super sweet genovese basil
triple curled parsley
amanda leaf lettuce
blue lake bush beans
swiss chard
rosemary
greek oregano
chamomile
spearmint
chocolate mint
lemon balm
catnip
dill

four years, I went without a garden, four years. I'm telling you right now, I will never not have a garden again. 

223/365

things I do when things are too much and the world is too much and I can't breathe, part three:

polish collected seashells
smell the insides of library books
move my body until I am tired and sweating and my mind is quiet
listen to the last voicemail my mother left me
stand in the green grass in my bare feet

(part one, part two)

222/365

small pleasures, part nine:

popsicles
midnight walks
mail from friends
the first bite of a peach
lightning bugs
crushed ice
cat naps

221/365

things that delighted me today:

the idea that bibliotherapy exists
portraits made with the thick smudges of palette knives
the minuscule praying mantis that stared up at me from beneath a sunflower leaf

220/365

things that comfort me, part two:

the sound of the cicadas at night
my mother's sterling silver bracelets
an old midnight blue tee-shirt that is as soft as skin and has so many holes it barely qualifies as clothing

219/365

words I had to look up in the dictionary in june:

vulpine
bailiwick
repatriate
evanescent
travertine
vituperative
crepuscular
aquiline
torpor

218/365

songs that go on every single summer mix I make:

sweet thing (van morrison)
here comes the sun (nina simone)
make you feel that way (blackalicious, tor/sufjan stevens remix)
rill rill (sleigh bells)
swim team (arms and sleepers)
gold silver diamond (generationals)
genius of love (tom tom club)
happier than the morning sun (stevie wonder)

217/365

eaten while on vacation:

fried pickles
a slice of lemon meringue pie
numerous slurpees from 7-11
home-cooked arroz con pollo
fresh corn on the cob
vacation cereal, aka fruity pebbles
the world's best hamburger
a spoonful of ice cream here
a spoonful of ice cream there
avocado toast with a pinch of sea salt and a squeeze of lime juice
more pizza than I'd care to admit, really
grocery store cupcakes
a lovely little plum
and the most spectacularly wonderfully perfect cherry sno-cone

216/365

things we did on the fourth of july:

broke swimming pool rules
ate grocery store cupcakes for dinner
watched a colossal storm roll in
took buzzfeed quizzes
laughed
and laughed
and laughed
schlepped down to the beach
took intentionally blurry photographs of fireworks
thought about this a lot

215/365

potential 2019 summer themes:

summer of the disco camping lantern
summer of the homemade strawberry sheet cake
summer of the great sun tea experiment
summer of the time I finally got my bike repaired
summer of the time it was a million degrees outside but we went peach picking anyway
summer of the time it was a million degrees outside but we went blackberry picking anyway
summer of the neverending tent sleepover
summer of my cherry lemonade hack
summer of my garden obsession
summer of my topo chico obsession
summer of my stripey shirt obsession
summer of the big kick the can revival
summer of the string lights I couldn't stop buying and hanging
summer of the time we finally blew up that big popsicle pool float we bought two years ago
summer of the time we finally found the secret waterfall
summer of the time we finally went back to the drive-in
summer of our garden sprinkler revival
summer of at least a dozen sno-cones, maybe more
summer of ava never not blowing bubbles

214/365

books I read in june:

the secret history (donna tartt)
henri cartier bresson (aperture masters of photography)
against the odds: women pioneers in the first hundred years of photography (martin w. sandler)
wildsam field guides: american south (taylor elliott bruce)
the library book (susan orlean)

213/365

on this first day of july:

ocean air, inhaled
shells, collected
body, submerged