On a personal level, twenty seventeen has been one of my most challenging years. A year filled with hard lessons about love and loss. Lessons that leave you no other choice but to grow a stronger soul.
That isn’t to say though, that there weren’t beautiful moments worth remembering along the way. More than ever, I found myself grounded in mother nature, a connection I consider fundamental to my very well being.
I already know that the coming year will be one of great change. Moving forward, I hope to remember some words that ring true to who I have been and, more importantly, who I want to be; “Don’t allow your wounds to turn you into a person you are not.” — Paulo Coelho and especially “May your choices reflect your hopes, not your fears.” —Nelson Mandela.
So here’s to more worthwhile views, and all the things to come. Happy New Year.
Sundays are for new friends and cat naps. Sleep Study I.
To those who serve, and that have served.
In honor of Heartbreak Cafe, a loving companion and friend.
Horse Study I.
My affinity for goats runs deep.
Magical creatures that border the line of otherworldly. Captured at a riding farm in Virginia.
Plus this barn cat, for obvious reasons.
A little late to post, but yet another birthday has come and gone. Words to live by for my twenty-seventh year:
“Whatever makes you weird is probably your greatest asset.” Joss Whedon
A feline and some fresh air. And the channeling of my inner Forest Feast.
I never print my photographs, which is a real shame when I stop and think about the thousands upon thousands I have stored away on a massive hard drive I keep in my kitchen. Well my wall desperately needed updating and this time around, I opted for color. I can’t say that I don’t miss the look of all black and white photographs, but I’ll let these marinate for a while and maybe they will grow on me. It’s always a bit sad to put away a piece of Italy. Maybe I’ll just have to dig up more memories and share them here instead.
(And let’s just ignore the fact that things in this basement hang a little bit crooked. I’ll blame it on the walls.)