i'm leaving puddles everywhere i go. i walked back up to the house from the little beach carrying my shoes, with my skirt sticking to my legs. and a little bucket of glass from sitting in the waves and sifting through the pebbles for the last half an hour. what a lovely end to a hot july day. i don't start out sitting in the lake, but it always seems that after a few minutes that's exactly where i am. and i have such beautiful little treasures to show for it. i photographed a dry pile of glass from the other day beside today's fresh pile that is still wet from the lake.and my garden has blossomed in it's own wild and beautiful way along the front of the house. roses and hollyhocks and sweetpeas and lavender against limestone. lots of photos to choose from.

tom is on the porch playing guitar and singing ryan adams songs. i'm wandering barefoot through the yard taking photos. it's a beautiful morning. this afternoon we'll have dinner with my sweet daddy. and bring some wood home for projects i've been planning. but right now in this moment, the morning is supremely still and lovely.

this little structure pulls me to it like a motherless child. i am a spiral of emotion and fullness when i see it's loveliness with gaping holes and wood covered windows. i can't drive past. the attraction is like an untold story from a life i didn't know i lived. and it's settled deep in me refusing to let me deny it, but never letting me know exactly what it is i'll never know. so i keep being drawn to houses that are partly strong and solid and partly rotten and crumbling. there is the blush of delight, the bubble of joy, the smile spread across it's broken front like a handful of dandelions clutched and drooping in the grimy fingers of a happy child. i want to lean against the stone. i want to dream in it's shadow. but i don't want to change a thing. i love it's story. i don't want a newly primped and prettily painted story. this is the perfect distinction between pretty and beautiful. she is already beautiful, my lovely little piece of yesterday. but she is not pretty. and doesn't need to be, her beauty surpasses it. clean and smooth and fresh and shiny would polish away her serene and effortless imperfect joy.