I've been feeling a pull back to blogging. It seems a thing of the past compared to the flashier forms of social media but part of me misses the closeness of what blogs used to be. I've wanted to put more words here rather than Instagram where it feels crowded and a little less genuine and scrolling a little tiresome with all the ads and propositions. I abandoned a blog long ago for the allure of Instagram and now I'm coming back to my first love, with plans to simply journal and essay and nurture this little space like I initially intended.
I want to start as if I never left; with the simplest details of what life looks like on a May Day in 2018. I recently read The Poisonwood Bible and I'm still digesting the bulk of it but I'll never forget pages 381-385, and can't even say how many times I've reread them. I started a bookclub and my only regret is not doing it sooner.
Swallows and Amazons is our favorite movie as of late.
We live in Canada in a little green 100 year old house that has filled me up on days when I feel far from home (an essay on this is in the works). We have a quaint little yard and I'm slowly learning to garden, I've accepted that flowers are almost as essential to me as books, and though I'm a novice in every way, I'm learning and getting glimpses of my 60 year old self, hands in the dirt with a straw hat and wrinkles and a wealth of knowledge to share with my daughters. I recently stumbled upon floret flower on Instagram and then again in The Magnolia Journal's recent feature of her story and I cannot stop thinking about grandmother's and "old-fashioned flowers" and f l o w e r f a r m s.
My love is elbow-deep inventing and building a business and it has been a gift to witness his creativity in full force. I'm not wishing a single day of this season away, being a mother to three little girls, though sticky and high-pitched and exhausting, is a dream I didn't know was mine.