g i r l . f i v e

One hundred girls in one hundred days, day five. Ink and brush on paper.

m e d i e v a l . n e o n

I found this amazing fabric in a rural goodwill several months ago. The instant that I saw it, I knew that I had to have it, although I had (and still have) no idea what to do with it. Originally I considered turning it into a psychedelic skirt or some hideous pillows, but now I think I might just tack it up in all its glory on my studio wall and let it inspire me. I like the idea of an alternate reality with lush gardens and jolly lovers wearing clothing inspired by separate centuries.

h a i l

Another summer has risen up and quietly faded; when I think of my experience, my personal ability to say that I've seen twenty-four summers pass, I feel strange. The number seems so small, too small to be able to say that I know how a summer is and what to expect from one. Saying, I've eaten at a restaurant twenty-four times, or that I've read a book just as many times is different; those are numbers that I can willfully expand, infinitely build upon. But summer...whose passing I wait for with bated breath, and who only recently I've grown to tolerate, even appreciate...

You can only collect so many summers before they're gone.

l a k e . s i d e

This past weekend, I was fortunate to spend some time in St. Catherines; Josh and I snuck away and went for a quick walk along the shore, and while it wasn't technically a sea, it was lovely being by the water. It was a gorgeous day, all blazing sunshine and soft breeze and in a perfect, quiet moment,  I felt a million times removed from ordinary life.

a u g u s t

This, I really can't believe. It's August already; I'm hot, sweaty and tired and the summer's been a blur. Have I accomplished my seasonal goals yet? Kinda, sorta, a little bit. I haven't been to the beach, but it's on the horizon! I haven't really "read" any new books yet, although I did reactivate my Audible account and listened to Sophie Kinsella's new book, Wedding Night (that almost counts, right?).

One thing that I have managed to stick with is my healthiness regime (more or less). I'm ecstatic to admit that I've managed to lose almost 20lbs since April, which I must say, feels excellent! I've also been keeping up on challenging myself to "dare to bare" more skin these past summer months; a few weekends ago, I wore a pair of shorts for the first time in forever, and I've actually felt fairly comfortable wearing sleeveless dresses (for a girl whose year-round uniform includes tights and a cardigan, this is a pretty big deal).

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Hope that your August is filled with adventures and accomplishments!
Here are a few of my favourite posts from the past month:

e l e c t r i c . g r e e n

Perhaps my favourite aspect of Toronto is its balance of urban and natural; paces away from bustling streets, there are quiet neighbourhoods of heirloom houses with sprawling lawns and lush gardens. I took a walk today down one such street, feeling peaceful and detached from city life (and reality).

i n . b l o o m

My mum loves gardening. While I was still living at home, she would often try to persuade me to come outside and help her tend to her plants; she would (and still does) joke about paying me fifty cents to weed.

Even though I love flowers as a visual concept (as explained here), I was never very keen on the concept of gardening; one (among many) of my most dreaded summer phenomena was the experience of being dragged along to an open air garden centre; the heat and inevitable swarms (or so it seemed to me!) of bees and other bugs were unbearable to me. I was also always nonchalantly adamant that when and if I ever had a garden of my own, I would simply throw hand-fulls of seeds onto the earth and let nature take its course.

It's a mystery to me, but so far this summer I feel like I'm obsessed with plants; I keep pausing when I pass by beautiful gardens in bloom and can't resist capturing them on camera.

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When I was little and we lived out in the county, there was a giant peony bush on the corner of our property; I remember staring in morbid fascination at the lush blossoms swarming with gigantic black ants.

g a r d e n

p o o r . b a b y

I used to compalin, a lot.

After some reflection, I understand that this was a side-effect of internalizing my feelings. If I was forcing myself to be quiet about big things the majority of the time, then once I was around someone I felt able to talk to, I unleashed a constant stream of negativity. It was an ugly trait, something that I'm ashamed to admit doing.

There was a day several years ago when I vowed to resist complaining for an entire day; surprisingly (or perhaps not) it was one of the best days that I'd experienced in a while; I realized that by being negative, even if only jokingly, I was only perpetuating more negativity and cheating myself out of happiness. I often think back to that day, reminding myself to quit whining unnecessarily.

There are still times though, when I need to vent: when the streetcar short-turns in the rain and I have to walk home, when someone takes advantage of me or is mean, when reality falls short of my expectations. I need to try to remember though to keep my problems in perspective, especially when what I'm complaining about is myself.

It goes like this: I set goals, don't achieve them, get upset, reflect and say to myself, poor baby, how awful for you. It's self-deprecation, which isn't really that much better than complaining.

What I really need to do is push myself harder to achieve the things that I set out to do. I want to continue to push myself to be the kind of person who has nothing to complain about.