kaleidoscope

{via pinterest}

all the colors

of the rainbow

hidden 'neath my skin

::

hearts have colors

don't we all know?

red runs through our veins

::

feel the fire burning up

inspire me with blood

of blue and green

::

i have hope

inside is not a heart

but a kaleidoscope
::
{kaleidoscope heart // sara barielles}

this song has been the soundtrack to my soul since the moment it first passed from my Pandora station into my ears. 

it stuck with me, as things have been doing lately. is it the hormones? is this my soul's version of nesting, perhaps? is my spiritual self starting to line the nest with the softest and most beautiful of things to prepare for what is to come in a mere 13 weeks, if even that long? 

it's certainly become a kaleidoscope pathway for me, as though the granite blocks have suddenly been fitted with some sort of intricate scroll-work that i never noticed before, and all i want to do is stop and study every detail. 

this summer is captivating me. it just started, four days into June and i'm feeling like exploding into peony petals and white picket fences. i want to spend every single day possible barefoot in the grass and dancing down the creek despite my ever-growing belly.

and so i removed the design that i've had for almost a year now, and i made it new. i tweaked and changed and made it fit the changing me. the sacred feminine inside me that i've squished for so long, but am now allowed to peak out of the crevices.

it's become a kaleidoscope of His story, of His breath mixed with the light to swirl and create something ever beautiful and ever changing.

it's sacredness, and it's mine to inhale.

:: deep breath in ::

Sunkissed

"Four things I would have been the better without: love, curiosity, freckles, and doubt." ~Dorothy Parker

I don't tan.

As much as I would love to sport beautiful skin like that of my peers, I simply do not possess the talent.

The closest I have ever been to "tanned" was the summer that I was eighteen...and only after spending hours in a tanning bed to lightly change my skin tone for my aunt's wedding.

I simply do not tan.

I burn. And I freckle.

The freckles have been my "gift" since I was very little. A light smattering of these tiny brown spots have covered my body from nose-tip to toes ever since I was old enough to gaze at my own pale arms in wonder at the marks I beheld.

And now, today, after spending a day in the gaze of the sun, my nose and cheeks are the faintest hint of red, and my face and arms now sport even more of these all-too familiar "beauty marks."

Freckle-faced dreamer
Photo by: DramaticElegance

Perhaps it has something to do with my "Snow White" complexion and hair...or maybe it is the barest reminder of the redheads in my family, and my own natural auburn highlights that compliment my own chocolate brown locks.

Or maybe I'm just over-analyzing the natural pigmentation of my own skin.

Either way, freckles are my own summertime souvenirs.

They are graffiti that I wear...summer was here.

They are my sunkisses....pastel skin and watercolour beauty marks.

And honestly, I wouldn't have it any other way.


Though we travel the world over to find the beautiful, we must carry it with us or we find it not.  ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

Août (August)

I walk without flinching through the burning cathedral of the summer.  My bank of wild grass is majestic and full of music.  It is a fire that solitude presses against my lips.  ~Violette Leduc

Tomorrow is the first day of August.

The last full month of summer, and the eight month of the year.

I have always looked at August as the prelude to autumn...the first notes of the golden orange and brown symphony that is close at hand.

I'm not sure what I think about all summer being so close to an end. I feel like I've barely scratched the surface of what I want to accomplish before the days grow short and the prologue to snow arrives.

The colour schemes of nature will change from the fresh summery greens and purples...fading into the rich and fragrant reds and gold tones of harvest.

I'm honestly not sure if I'm ready for the seasonal change.

Yes, I am going to eventually embrace the inevitability that the promises of God are eternal....autumn follows summer, an unbroken cycle until the end of days. And yes, I soak in the beauty of every season...I do not have a favourite, for each one has its own glories of inspiration.

But summer has not ended yet...I still have time.

Time to continue to work on my production of OZ!, which I do promise to write more about in the coming weeks....

...to have picnics of sandwiches and lemon drop fudge, to sip lemonade and eat ice cream cones by the riverfront...

...time to chase fireflies and count the endless stars in the clear country skies..,

...time to taste the freshness of sun-ripened fruit against my lips, and embrace the delicate flavour of every sort of berry imaginable.

August arrives tomorrow.

Fall will have to wait

just a bit longer.

Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower.  ~Albert Camus

Treasure

"Our hearts are drunk with a beauty our eyes could never see." ~George W. Russel

This past week has been full of summery joys.

The delight of spending seven days on a farm, surrounded by perfectly green fields and more serene emptiness than I can even speak of in one breath...

...spending the sweet moments compiling my inspirational Etsy treasuries, filled with beautiful treasures that draw me in and make my fingers flutter with anticipation...

...losing myself in the pages of The Order of the Phoenix, never allowing myself to wander too far from Hogwart's gates...

...finding myself overwhelmed with the feedback for July's beautifully continuing giveaway, counting down the days until it comes to its end and the winners might receive their sparking gems...

...curling onto wooden porch steps and allowing the gentle pitter-patting of twenty-four kitten paws to wander across my arms, lap, and shoulders, finding innocent joy and comfort in their snuffling pink noses and tiny mews.

These summer weeks are the ones I love the most.

I feel as though I've written a thousand posts on the joy of summertime, and the little delights to be found in every single day within these blissful months. And honestly, you might all find yourselves becoming sick of my summery ramblings.

But I feel as though I've barely started to lift the guilded lid of the treasure chest that this warm and balmy season has deposited on my doorstep.

I don't want to put down my pen. I want to chronicle every moment of this bliss.

I want to lose myself in film and ink and compacted charcoal sticks.

I never want to let this book end or the pages become brittle from lack of touch.

There is much more to dream.

Much more treasure to seek.

Call me a gypsy.

Call me a summertime pirate.

I will walk this path, barefoot with flowers in my dark wavy hair...

...forever seeking this treasure, which we call summer.

Beauty deprived of its proper foils and adjuncts ceases to be enjoyed as beauty, just as light deprived of all shadows ceases to be enjoyed as light.  ~John Ruskin

Never Obliviate {Spoilers}

"...and you, if you have stuck with Harry until the very end." ~J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows


I don't even know where to begin right now.

I'm still emotionally overwhelmed. I am full of magic.

I know that I don't normally do "play-by-play" posts, but I think for this, I will make an exception.

Arriving at the theater at 10pm put my friends and I right in the center of a madhouse of costumed fans. The fandom was intense and beautiful.

There was a Malfoy lookalike...same blonde hair, same facial shape, same wardrobe, and same excessive attractiveness...along with Lucius, Bellatrix, Dobby, and a small Death Eater.

There was an enormous Hagrid, a devilishly handsome Sirius, a witty and outlandish Rita Skeeter, three plumply pink and cat-laden Umbridges, and numerous escapees from Azkaban Prison. There was even a pig-nosed Tonks look-a-like with hot purple hair and long beautiful robes.

And there are photographs galore to prove it, which will be coming soon.

Amid my party, there were two Slytherins, a Hufflepuff, five Gryffindors, and a Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw mix, as well as my Bellatrix'd costumed self...but I count myself among the Gryffindors, for that is my house and my home.

After two hours of laughing, photographing, and general all-around giddiness, we went our separate ways into our respective theaters. The previews seemed to drag forever. Even the sneak peak at The Dark Knight Rising seemed to do nothing but annoy as our hearts began to beat faster with anticipation.

Finally, the theater went dark.

The grey stone WB logo appeared on the screen.

Tears began to trickle their way down my face.

Barely fifteen minutes had passed before I, my friends, and the rest of the fully sold out theater were sobbing as though our hearts would break.

Professor Minerva McGonagal raised her wand and the war began. My heart began to throb.

Snape gasped out "you have your mother's eyes." I sobbed.

Ron and Hermoine shared a kiss fourteen years in the making. There are no words for the way my heart leapt.

Fred's pale form lay still and dead on the Hogworts commonroom floor. I wailed.

The bodies of Lupin and Tonks lay together without a breath, fingers barely brushing, blood on their faces. That is "til death do us part."

The battle was waged. Lives were lost.

Snape cradled the slain form of Lily Potter to his chest and wailed in anguish. I joined with him.

The doe Patronus leapt, and the ghostly forms of Sirius, Lily, James, and Lupin gave Harry the courage to do what must be done.

Bellatrix was slain by a gleeful Molly Weasley. I cheered.

A now exceptionally-attractive Neville severed the serpent's head. I could not speak for weeping.

Voldemort was defeated and scattered to the wind. I raised my hands and cried with joy.

The credits rolled. I screamed and cheered and clapped until my eyes, throat, and hands were sore.

My emotions are beyond my comprehension.

The end of an era.

Seven books.

Eight movies.

Fourteen years.

Three Kleenexes.

Thank you, J.K. Rowling, for my magical childhood...

...and for my continuous magical adulthood.

For I will never Obliviate. 


I will never forget.

When I am 80 years old, I will be sitting in my rocking chair reading Harry Potter. And my family will laugh and say, "still?"

And I will say...

..."Always."

"It does not do well to dwell on dreams and forget to live. Remember that." ~Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone


"Hogwarts will always be there to welcome you home." ~J.K. Rowling

Eté

Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass on a summer day listening to the murmur of water, or watching the clouds float across the sky, is hardly a waste of time.  ~John Lubbock

I feel so enraptured with summertime this afternoon.

Sitting here on the couch, my short legs tucked up underneath me...

...shoulders and feet bare to the caress of the wind...

...sunlight streaming in through the partially-opened screen door...

...two very energetic dogs playing beside me...

...sipping at the tart sweetness of a pomegranate IZZE soda and nibbling at the corner of a dark-chocolate-raspberry swirled square of decadence...

...I feel lost in the wonder that is summer.

There are sweet and beautiful memories that I have already made with people that mean the world to me, and those that I will continue to make in the coming months.

There are pictures to be taken, green tea to be sipped, and shady trees to be climbed.

There are new novels in which I must lose myself, and an end-of-an-era premieres at which I must weep until my eyes ache.

There are fresh strawberries to be bitten and savoured, and the aroma of flowers to inhale.

There is so much sweetness to take in before the silvery winter with its peppermint snow comes again.

Summer is barely half over, and there are still one hundred and one dreams to be chased.

Estate.

夏

Verano.

Eté.

Summer.

I question not if thrushes sing,

If roses load the air;

Beyond my heart I need not reach

When all is summer there.

~John Vance Cheney  

Citrus

Orange eclipse, I can taste your lips / In the citrus afternoon / If you can fly, don't stop at the sky / 'Cause there's footprints on the Moon ~Owl City, Yacht Club


This was a very citrus afternoon. 


After juicing all those limes yesterday, it was little to no work at all to combine their lip-puckering sweetness with a few other ingredients. 


Two key lime pies now sit in my refrigerator, patiently awaiting their raspberry-syrup-and-whipped-creme-topped debut at tomorrow's family 4th of July celebration. 


(If you want the recipe I used, check out Olivia's blog here. For my own lime-juicing adventures, check out yesterday's post!)


Summer and citrus truly do go hand in hand. 


Lemonade on a sultry hot day, sitting on a porch swing with your best friend, laughing and sipping your tart beverage as the ice clinks gently against the glass...


...a sweet lemon ice and fresh raspberry smoothie, toes wiggling just under the surface of a relative's swimming pool, the breeze blowing just enough to cool your skin and ruffle your hair...


...and yes, even a slice of fresh, homemade key lime pie on the 4th of July, enjoying the sour-sweet firework show occurring on your tongue, a delightful precursor to the firework show coming when the sun finally slips below the horizon and the American sky goes navy blue. 


Perhaps I will forever associate my own patriotism with the aroma and taste of key lime pie, and with the feel of fingers made wrinkling by the acidic juice sinking into my skin. 

One of my own finished pies
Photo by DramticElegance

Perhaps summer will always be citrus fireworks to me.


Perhaps that is how it should be.


Because isn't that what summer is, really?


A combination of the bitter and sweet...moments of joy as lifetime memories are made, and outstretched fingers of heartbreak as so many things change. 


Summer is tart and acidic. 


Beautiful and full of sweetness and life. 


Summer is citrus.


And that's how it will always be. 


I wish that we could sail our sad days away / Forever / In deep blue seas of paper mâché / Let's dance in the moonlight / A barracuda chased our dog days away / Forever / Let's sink or swim 'til we fall in love / And dance in the moonlight / When we join the yacht club. ~Owl City, Yacht Club

Fleurs et du Thé (Flowers and Tea)

Flowers are the sweetest things God ever made, and forgot to put a soul into.  ~Henry Ward Beecher


The attributes of summer are endless.


I've probably written ten posts so far just on the glories of summertime, and each little wonder just waiting to be uncovered with each fluttering breeze...


...each one more hypnotizing and more beautiful than the next. 


Fireflies and fresh air...sunsets and dust motes captures in rays of brilliant sunlight...cotton sundresses and bare feet...Jane Austen novels and the tartness of lemonade...all set to the tune of Regina Spektor and Owl City.


Can it get any better than this?


Oh yes, I truly think so.


I honestly believe that any of these beautiful attributes of summer can be amplified with a steaming mug of tea and a wandering stroll through a floral-scented garden.


There is magic found in the bottom of a mug of tea. 


There is whispers of fairy dust and early morning mystery found in dew drops clinging to daisy petals. 


Whether it's curled up in a soft leather chair in a local coffee shop, Harry Potter between my fingertips and a flower tucked behind my ear...


...or standing in the middle of a wide open field, soft grass between my toes and a straw hat hanging down my back, my hair long and loose in the wind and a blanket spread and waiting beneath a maple tree...


...it's that fragrance of tea and rose petals that lingers...


...and that turns even the most commonplace of locations into a summertime fairyland. 

tea leaves

                                                                                                  tea loves

loves tea

lives tea

leaves tea?

never.

~Uniek Swain