project film : my heart's in the highlands, my heart is not here

my heart seems to be elsewhere this morning...
i love mornings like this
when my soul realizes the simple complexities of life.

i began my morning with sun salutations to arvo part's
music coupled with robert burns' poem...
you must hear it, click here,
i listened to arvo part all morning
until i just ended with 12 cellos playing
this song...i never tire of it.



i love mornings when i see.

i feel like singing...wishing dear friends were close by

{project film} the farmers' market : a seasonal guide

every tuesday, exactly at noon, we're standing in line at the tamale tent for some of the yummiest mexican food our mouths have ever savored. tuesdays have become "tamale tuesdays" at our house. after we carefully consume our pepper-spicy tamales we refresh our steaming mouths with horchata that puts up a good fight against the hundred-degree weather that is common in these parts. once our bellies are full we make our rounds to our usual farmer booths, filling our bags beyond their limits—literally bursting at the seams.

tamale tuesdays, however, are not year-round. this market only lasts from april through september. yesterday was our last tamale tuesday—ever. though we are excited for our move to utah in december, we realized we’ll be sad to miss our summer tuesday ritual at the market.

living in a place for the past two and a half years that has only two seasons has made us “seasonally claustrophobic,” as cj puts it. there isn’t much of fall, and winter is nowhere to be found. we are 4-season people, and we’ve missed our falling leaves and quiet snow storms.

the farmers’ market filled this empty place in our lives just a bit. i could tell what season it was by what the farmers had on their tables: asparagus, cherries, spinach, strawberries, melons, peaches, apples, pears, heirloom tomatoes, and on and on. we looked forward to each food season, and tried to preserve bits of each season in our freezer for special treats when those fruits and vegetables were rare.

now that the tuesday market has come to an end i will start my saturday morning trips to a year-round market, which I am absolutely giddy about. because this market is different. yes, they have all the staples that the other market offers, but instead of tamales we fill our bellies with bolani and cream cheese danishes—this is how I know its fall, despite the intolerable 99 degrees we’ll be hitting today.

mcclure beach : how saturdays, and every day, should be spent

{photos by cj...there were so many good ones i wanted to post but didn't because i'm trying not to steal all of cj's photos away from him...maybe after he's had time with his photos i'll post more for you to see!}

i suggest we all drop what we are doing right this moment,
and head out to the beach...
we'll stop by the farmer's market {like we do every time}
to pick up some fresh bread, peaches, apple cider, goat cheese, and a chocolate croissant...
we'll pack it all in a basket and bring along our favorite books to read aloud,
and our towels to take little cat-naps,
and our giant hats to keep the sun off our noses,
and our notebooks to write it all down.

who's with me?

project film & manifesto monday : crashing

last saturday we packed up our car, and headed out to the coast to escape the heat of the city. after two hours on freeways and winding roads we arrived at our beach. i carried three cameras, 2 books, my notebook, and a knitting project to our temporary fort on the sand. i had plans to be oh so productive on such a beautiful beach.

but i quickly settled down after taking only a handful of photographs and writing only a few lines in my little notebook-- i had no inclination to do much of anything but watch the water. i watched wave after wave come crashing to the shore. some waves were bigger and more dramatic than the little waves that barely come lapping up to the shore. i noticed how the waves just kept coming. they just kept crashing.

waves are somehow simultaneously calming and powerful. the sound of consistent beating upon the shore rests our minds and bodies. awe overcomes us as magnificent waves explode upon rocky monoliths.

and then i thought about how often, and somewhat consistently, i seem to crash. how is it that my crashing doesn't seem as powerful or as awe-inspiring as the ocean waves? i asked this question, and have since been changing how i view my own crashes, no matter how small they are or how prolific they are.

could my falling be just as beautiful? absolutely. could i cease to feel that crashing is awkward and embarrassing? yes indeed. could i embrace my crashing as much as i embraced each and every wave on that saturday afternoon? happily.

my mind has been filled with thoughts of letting go and releasing expectations; letting myself fall when i must fall; how powerful my "failures" can truly be.

our beach has gone through so much change over the past few months. when we visited our beach in may it was void of much of its sand, revealing a rocky shore without any even ground for picnicking. upon our return visit on saturday the rocks were once again covered up with one huge sandy beach, perfect for setting up blankets, towels, and umbrellas. i realized what a huge feat it was for the ocean to first, remove all that sand to reveal its rocky base, and second, to restore literally tons and tons of sand back to the beach. all of this done by the crashing of the waves. what great change is brought by crashing!

i am ready to crash more willingly, whether it is gracefully or terribly. this i believe.

project film : black & white...makes me sigh

just looking at these photos calms me down.
i absolutely love shooting black & white film.

trying to imagine that the weather here looks like it does in these photos...
we'll be hitting 101 in the next few days,
hardly the fall weather i long for.
so i think i might have to escape to these photos often in the upcoming heat wave.

goodnight : light some candles, turn off the lights, let a cool breeze in through the window, sip some tea, wrap up in a blanket, close your eyes

equinox celebration : apple pizza

equinox celebration : pumpkin cookies

get the recipe here.

"to autumn" : john keats

welcome, dear autumn.
it is time.



{check back here throughout the day for a couple more autumn posts}