on hydrangeas.

small and white, clean and bright, you look happy to meet me

blossom of snow may you bloom and grow, bloom and grow forever

i don't remember the first time i saw the sound of music or heard captain von trapp sing "edelweiss," but

 i do remember being small and scooping white hydrangea petals into my hands and thinking, yes. this is what he means. blossoms of snow.

 hydrangeas bloomed throughout my grandparents' yard in the upstate and all over charleston by the coast. i associate them with the south, with the place where i grew up, with the city where i went to school.

how happy i am, then, that they bloom here, too. big and blue, small and white, the deepest of pinks, the most delicate of purples...and always looking happy to meet me. 

if ever you can't find me.

i'll be in sheep meadow. 

people-watching, cloud-gazing, looking at the world from the upside down. 

(photos by me; me photos by angie)

the subway.

it's how i get where i am going when it's too far or late to walk. where i realize how much i share in common with perfect strangers. where i do my best thinking. i like looking down and seeing chuck taylors and leather loathers, flip flops and oxfords. side-by-side. i like wondering where people are going, where they are coming from, what their stories are. because i know they have them. i only need to look around at what people are reading to know that all sorts of people have the same questions and wonders as me. that's not just comforting at 8:26 on a tuesday morning commute. that's comforting in life. in a funny way, i think that some of the most interesting, most valuable lessons of this city are learned when i am traveling beneath it. 

the weekend.

 the weather is hovering in the sunny-and-70s.

perfect for pizza al fresco, exploring all day, and walking 30 blocks for a birthday cupcake so we wouldn't miss the sunset. 

just the way summer should be. 

a postcard

from my lately.

  

i am loving life's whimsy. the polka dot socks with the floral pajamas. the teensy coffeespoons at joe that seem plucked from a dickens novel. the roses bought and sold from weathered sidewalk carts. the flowers blooming wildly in every window, down every step. the rusty old beetle that doesn't quite fit in, yet somehow does.

i am looking forward to a few days with my cousin caroline. she's never been to the city before and i can't wait to see her see it for the first time. i don't ever want to forget what it's like to be new here. i hope i always see it the way i do now. 

i can't think of a title.

yesterday was an out-of-sorts-from-the-(late)-start, may-i-please-have-a-do-over day.

today, i am up before the sun and determined it will be better.

a new day is a do-over.

and i think this peek at my little trip south is just the cheerful start i need.

 

  

have i ever told you that i like my parents? and their homey-house? and their eccentric dog, jake?

i know you know i love them.

but i like them, too. i like them as friends, as people, as keepers of my secrets. i like them as joke-makers and makers of my favorite breakfast. i like them as constants in a world that isn't always so. i just plain like them. i like them hard. 

scenes from a wedding.

this morning i am sipping my coffee and sifting through the photos i took over the weekend, and i keep going back to these. my friend sarah was married on saturday and everything about the evening was magical, from sinatra playing in the background to sarah thanking michael's parents for the man that they raised. it was the sweetest.