June has almost slipped through my fingers and all I have motivation to do is read (and read and read) and go to the pool. These next few weeks will be madness and I'm not ready to let go of these lazy summer days quite yet.
At the end of every month, I always have a small collection of leftover photographs. They're hidden deep in the depths of a folder, never having seen the light of day. Usually I leave them be and look at them from time to time, but these images wiggled their way into my heart and I couldn't ignore their silent plea to be heard before the month is out. So here are the forgotten frames, the misfits that never quite fit into earlier blog posts. They're happy now, and so am I. (and yes, I make a bond with each of my photos. just call me crazy) 

How is summer faring for you?

I've never had much of a green thumb. Or rather, maybe I had the teeniest hint of a green thumb that never saw the light of day because I was too lazy to try. Regardless, I tended my own little plot of soil in the family garden this year. I watered and babied my plants faithfully and my efforts were soon rewarded. There is nothing like picking sun-warmed blackberries off the vine, popping cherry tomatoes like candy, or biting into a freshly pulled carrot, dirt still clinging to the crevices. Then there's the magical feeling of soil sifting through your fingers, rich and damp, the proud sensation of seeing tiny jewels of color poking up amid the green, and the pure elation of harvesting produce grown by your own hands. It takes work and dedication, but it's worth every moment. Though the idea has been brutally romanticized over the years, there's a part of me that aches to move to the country and work on a farm. There's a certain beauty in hard work and in the act of growing, producing, and eating your own food. I could probably never be a proper farmer, but sometimes it's so very appealing.

Do you garden?

I made no less than five trips outside, my arms full of fluffy bedding, this hook, and that blanket. It really is amazing to see how much work it is to set up a bed outdoors, but it was so worth it. When the sun slipped away and night fell, the dog and I went outside. I slid into the bed I'd made earlier while Sarge turned in circles before laying down beside me with a sleepy sigh, then parted the mosquito net and gazed at the vastness above me. The sky never fails to make me and my problems feel wonderfully small and insignificant. I cannot fathom the greatness of the heavens stretched far above me and it's a rather comforting thought in a strange way.
In the morning, Lilly flew across the backyard, the door slamming in her wake, and jumped into bed with me, snuggling close against my body. In the light of the rising sun, I couldn't think of a more magical moment. Sleeping outside is my favorite.

I realized it then. It wasn't until the wind molded into the curves of my body and wrapped around my heart in a piercing sense of rightness that I knew. I suppose the knowledge sat in some quiet corner of my subconscious, waiting to surface like bottles bobbing on the open water, but when I told you that we should travel the world together and you didn't object--I knew. I knew when you let me switch the conversation from light to deep to light again; when you laughed at my jokes, not just to humor me, but because you genuinely thought I was funny; when the bantering--the teasing, friendly kind that makes up our relationship--grew; when you made me laugh so hard breathing was just a mere memory; when it was just the ghosts of bonfires and sand below our toes and the stars filtering through cotton candy clouds above, I knew with out a shadow of a doubt that you were my best friend, and always will be. We share a bond that can never be severed and I would honestly be lost without you. I love you, best friend-brother.

Oh, and J? I cannot wait for our around-the-world trip.

ps spruced up my sweet friend madison's blog last week. take a look?