Amber Waves

Amber Waves

uyguguygu   05.00   Comment  

The prairie hasn't woken up yet. It's still dry, despite our spring thunderstorms, but the snow cover is gone. We only get a few days of green here, at least for the spaces left on their own to grow and thrive, and we have to wait for them to come through the long summer, autumn, and winter. Usually I have a hard time dealing with the dust and the drab colors but sometimes you drive past an expanse rolling in the wind like waves on the ocean and you catch your breath, startled by the beauty of it all. The gold of the fields amplify the blue of the sky.

Also, there's a kind of vastness, that's another thing I won't soon forget. Even on the edge of the city there are fields and views where you can see for miles and miles, all the way up to the foothills and to the fourteen thousand foot mountains beyond, still blowing with their snow and covered in blue and purple.

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I'm wearing a Lacost polo shirt (similar here) and a skirt from Target. The shoes are from j.crew. 

Red Barns in the Snow

Red Barns in the Snow

uyguguygu   06.00   Comment  

About five or so years ago I asked my friend A how she figured out how things went together. She was the most put together person I knew. Well, actually, she still is. I was struggling, in my early 20's to figure out how to dress, act, put my house together.  I didn't have a heritage of style like some people do. I hadn't been taught to put things together. My parents endowed many other fantastic things to me - how to manage my finances and how to be kind and smart and relentless - but not style. Growing up was one big battle between my mom's aesthetic and my dads and there was never a compromise so it was just a tangle of objects that various people liked. We also were told almost every single day that we were going to be moving because my parents were going to sell the house. This meant that we could never settle in and invest in the way things looked. 

 To top it off, at the time A and I had this conversation, I was newly married and couldn't get my style to mesh with my husbands and I felt like my tiny house, my clothes, even my haircut was a disaster. I was trying to figure out how to meet his style expectations without compromising my own as well. 

"Well," she told me. "I just look at everything. I look and I look and I look and I look."

That was it. That was the missing piece to the puzzle. So, the very next day I began to do exactly what she told me. As I went through life I tried to notice what caught my eye, what made me excited about things, what was I drawn to. Over the course of the last half decade I feel like I've really been able to narrow down the things that make me happy, and to also reserve a little hidden place for the things that make me happy but don't usually mesh well with the other things. The advice A gave me was super simple but it's completely changed the way I look at things. I wait for things to resonate in a very specific way before I go for them. I acquire things more slowly now. My decision making takes longer. But life is quieter because the cohesion helps to calm things down, both visually and mentally. 

These red barns, dotted around the countryside near my parents house, resonated with me in that specific way. The blankets of sparkling snow surrounded these weathered red structures made me catch my breath and as we drove northward I watched them pass, delighted in the tradition and character that defines that part of the midwest.  

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I'm wearing a blazer by Ann Taylor (Similar here in black). The shirt is an old Ariat western riding shirt. (Similar cut and features here with a different plaid.) The Jeans are Madewell's Skinny Skinny.  The boots are from Frye and the sunglasses are from Betsy Johnson. 

Farm Scenes and a Word of Advice

Farm Scenes and a Word of Advice

uyguguygu   20.59   Comment  

There is something to learn from everyone, that I know is true. 

I used to work with this man when I was restoring antique textiles who I learned so much from simply from saying good morning to and asking how his morning was every day.

"Every day above ground is a good day!" he would exclaim honestly as we filed in to start our days of quiet, solitary work. 

It's easy to learn gratitude from someone with that sort of relentlessly positive attitude. Thank you, friend, for teaching me the glory of morning and the worth of work. With that approach to life how could I possibly ever lose?

(More pictures from the farm, as shot by Jessica Triggs!)

Fourth of July in Small Town, Western America

Fourth of July in Small Town, Western America

uyguguygu   18.13   Comment  

We went away for the long holiday weekend, down to a cabin in the mountains above a tiny little town  that seemed to be populated by people from Texas and Oklahoma and their giant RVs. For the first time in a very long time I had absolutely no cell phone reception, no internet, no computer. 

Bliss!

I sat on the back porch of the cabin and watched the rainstorms roll in. I slept and rested. I read several books. I even started writing a story. We went out for dinners at little western cafes, took a jeep up a mountain to an alpine lake along a narrow old mining road from the 1900s, stopping to look at old cabins and wreckage from the claims there. 

Left without the distraction of the internet, of phone calls, even of music and noise, I was able to center, regroup, spend time with family, and celebrate the United States of America.