Of Lilac Nights and Days

1. Not available, 2. in the shade, 3. Berry Luminous, 4. Autumn - Morning #5
Take them then, my curls, and stay a while 'til morning; leave me with blue skies and your boots by the door...

I woke this morning in those moments before dawn; the world still, pale and a thousand shades of blue, that blackbird the only sound. It made me itch for blank notebooks and fresh sheets, steaming tea in the early light and the scent of lilacs and salt on the breeze... Today the sky is white not blue and the wind blows in from the south, whispering in foreign tongues and making promises it will never keep.
I'm into the last few weeks for college, as usual I'm surrounded by papers, piled high or pinned to walls, I need to find some order to it, stitch it all together somehow. I always work this way, I leave the narratives strung across my studio walls, catching the light and the breeze until the last possible moment, it's the fear that if I put them in order and hand them over that no one else will see what I see...

Today I have the urge to just run. The house smells like summer and the lost boys are waiting for me to finish the story but there hasn't been a star in the sky for three days... Today I love blueberry cake for breakfast and those swallows flying home. I love slow food and slow travel, slow days and slower nights. I love, love and all its kindness and loathe bitter words, hurtful and cruel. Today the woman I want to be has long dark hair, she is kindness and bravery and she shares beauty like other women share candy. She can finish that story, she can close her eyes and know his heart and she doesn't ever doubt...

Falling ash and Scheming stars

Love, tell me what metal are you made of?
Well you must be from some scheming star.
- Everly, Scheming Star.

For a week it has been as blue as summer, that honeyed sun sprinkling freckles across my skin, the wind blowing soft and slow from the east; promises, promises... That ash is falling unseen until there is a diamond shine on everything and the gulls fly inland calling out in the otherwise still air, trouble following not far behind. And yet despite the disruption I can't help but marvel, the world is vast once more; the distances between not mere finger-lenghts or hours, but days and adventures, that ocean is dark and cold and deep and love less easily proven...

For college I'm still scribbling and gathering; I always have blue ink on my fingers and on pages and blue thread tangled up in knots. I've been questioning and determining irrational characteristics, personifying the tales and superstitions and finding the core of how they, or perhaps how I, tick... I need pebbles, pure white and smooth and bones, chalky and bound, red silk and playing cards, blue china the colour of truth and waves and brambles once they've greened. They sit on shelves and lie scattered across my desk, and some midnight, when that clock with no swing decides to chime, I'm certain they'll transform into beauty and narrative...

Today I still have sand in my shoes and that thread in my pocket, I love eyes the colour of the ocean and anyone who brings me cake. I love sparklers; burning like stars in my hand and tea after midnight. I love laughter and truth and men with paint on their fingers, and as always I hate decisions left unmade. Today the woman I want to be, laughs more and gets up early, she plays music through the house; soft and low. She loves easily and compliments never make her stall... Someday.

Light and Some Falling Rain...

Spring is finally here, green and true. That lazy heat is slowly waking; it’s on the night breeze promising those long hot honeysuckle nights when every star is in the sky, it’s in the ground under my bare feet, whispering of daydream days and those daisies in my hair. I’m gathering stacks of books to me, I’m dreaming of maps and winding roads and home, someone else in the driving seat, and dancing ‘til dawn. But before all that I have so much to do for college; I’m still gathering objects and images and nightly I’m waging war to shake the poets and the beat*... shaping words and rhythm into something resembling those tales trailing through my mind. I cannot place Snow Whites voice, I fear she is what Anne Sexton called a “dumb bunny”, so I write the queens instead, I have more of her fire in my veins, or perhaps it is that she is now queen; all that snowy innocence melted away...

Today I love green; the pale green of spring and that deep slow green of summer, the green of this land and the green of a rambling mans eyes. I love the scent of sunlight and the soft patter of rain. I love those stories told of starlight, teacups on the counters and cake with candlelight. I love those little truths no one else knows but I hate words that sound like lies. Today the woman I am isn’t china and porcelain, she isn’t a lock to be picked or a secret to tell; but she is chaos theory and between the lines, she’s fire and patience and a pair of red shoes, she’s those white sheets and a map full of stars...

*Kings of Leon; Use Somebody.

Lady Grey...

1. Untitled, 2. cherry blossoms going for a dip, 3. April 5th Snow Storm Maine Fence, 4. Steamy hot

April is here, pale and cold. The night before last it snowed in the living room, perfect flakes drifted down the chimney and settled on the cold wood floor and last night, every star was in the sky, pressing close and tasting like sherbet on my tongue. My pearl tumbled to the floor, in the realm of lost things, bouncing amongst the hair so recently cut from my head; as black as those crows, my mothers’ friends, but they can do nothing for me. I can read the signs well enough that I daren’t pick up a tea cup, the willow pattern sits on the windowsill, but I know the tale it will tell me; instead I pick up pens and pages and write my own...

Today is grey and yet there is a film of gold just under the surface, so close that I expect the preternatural to occur at any moment; the house smells of daffodils and ice, there is snow on the hills and rain on the windows and the steam from my tea whispers in curls through the air. Today I love blossoms that fall like snow, I love soft knitted jumpers, the colour of that grey sky, I love kindness and as always I hate hurtful and pointless anger. Today the woman I want to be knows where home is, she breathes in those champagne stars and breathes them out as words and rhythm, she smells like chocolate and oranges and she trusts without trial...

This Sunday is my birthday; I’ll be very happy with spiced dark chocolate cake, daffodils on the table, sunlight on the sills and coffee, rich and creamy, but we’ll see... Have a wonderful light-filled weekend, eat lots of chocolate, dark of course; resting on cup saucers, better still baked into cakes and brownies... Here’s hoping this brings in the spring!