beautiful things

post: why we camp,

This has quite possibly been one of the darkest weeks of my life.

It's difficult because it's almost entirely internal. I can write about it and try to express it, but I place a mask on my face every single day as I go to work and interact with others. I focus on small things and make jokes to my friends and watch comedy shows and movies constantly. It's a very lonely feeling, a very personal struggle. I tend to cry on my way home from work and before I go to sleep. Those are the moments when I have time to myself to grieve. To be quite honest, I have been listening almost exclusively to Enya (a sure sign of brokenness) at work and hardly getting anything done. These days are very blurry and strange. I feel very tired. But I also know that life must go on and time is passing by whether I want it to or not. I realize I'm taking this very hard, and I must pull myself out of it somehow. 

Grief, prayer, acceptance, tribute, hope, love. 

Back in November I wrote a blog post called Stamps of Life. Something led me to reread that piece this morning, and I am now a puddle. Oh, my little November self, if only you knew. Thank goodness you didn't, because you were able to write something that your February self needed very, very badly. 

Here are some of my stamps of life. 

Beautiful moments, scenes of love, colorful pictures of memories that last and transform. 

Oh, Lord, you make beautiful things. Beautiful things out of the dust.

chapel hill

post: wanderlust wednesday

fall in virginia

bazille and camille by claude monet

parliament building in london, england

spring in virginia

ceiling details in florence, italy

smokey the cat

post: cypress gardens

epcot center, disney world

bike in paris, france

blowing rock, north carolina

the cayman islands

post: to be a writer

animal kingdom, disney world

dalkey, ireland

kilkenny, ireland

wanderlust wednesday

I've got London on my mind.

A cold day in London is lazy, clouds overhead and people meandering.
You leave your flat with coat and scarf, your boots clapping on the pavement. Should you walk or take the tube? You could sit on benches all throughout the city just to listen to Londoners talk. Maybe the queen is home, whom they call "mother". Maybe a local pub can warm that latent chill in your fingertips from the light morning snow. A foamy cappuccino will do; that's the ticket.
The breeze is damp but your coat is thick, everything smells like rain in the most pleasant way. It's a Saturday, so you stumble on a hidden collection of market tents, the smell of warm bread and curry drifting out to you. You peruse the cheese tables and observe the crowds, everyone is jovial because food unites us.
The cold may banish a number of tourists, but it certainly doesn't deter the brave street performers or the die-hard wanderers. The streets are still full of people, locals and tourists alike. The silent buildings observe the sullen city streets, ancient and dull in the muted skylight. The old and the new sit side by side, chipped brick and stone to glass skyscraper.
The little bit of sun begins to vanish altogether, the evening peaks through and the chill deepens. Time for fish and chips and warm glow, time to unravel your layers and let your fingertips out to grasp the glass of cider.
The night lights begin to flicker on to illuminate your way, Big Ben shimmering green along the rim of his hat.

Sweet London town.

(see all london posts)
(see all wanderlust wednesday posts)

postcards from rome

the trevi fountain // throwing a coin // the pantheon // our favorite eatery 
evening at piazza navona // piazza della rotonda // trajan's column
borghese gardens // overlooking vatican city // dome of st. peter's, the roman forum
the colosseum // roman center // sunset at trajan's column

Rome completely surprised us.

I was hoping something like that would happen. That my expectations would be shaken, that I would fall in love where I least expected it.
Traveling is such a personal and wondrous thing, so you're bound to get varied opinions and input when other people find out you're going somewhere they've been. We had a lot of responses to our Italy trip, and we heard a lot of the same. Florence is the best, Rome is the worst, eat as much gelato as you possibly can. We definitely gelato'd all day, every day, but we found that once all was said and done, it was Rome that had truly romanced us.

It's a beautiful city. It's bright and so full of life, the history is astounding, the food is life-changing. It's a city full of gems and secrets. It's a place for people-watching and wish-making and some of it is so familiar, you'd swear you had been there before -- and some of it is so impressive and surprising it'll take your breath away. Trajan's Column, The Trevi Fountain, Piazza Navona, The Sistine Chapel. Those were the things that truly took me by surprise.

I can definitely understand the general overwhelming feeling of Rome, the way it's tailored to tourists and can be too busy and hot and crowded, but we just found ourselves accepting it for what it was and demanding more. There were so many times when Dusty and I were quite literally giddy.
Like when we went into a little streetside pizza shop, and they sold pizza by the slice. They cut out a huge chunk of the pizza (mine was potato and rosemary), folded it up toppings-side-in, like a big pizza burrito, and wrapped it in paper. We walked outta that shop with our to-go pizza-folds, biting and chewing and smiling in-between, walking around Vatican City like we lived there.
Or when we were walking down little Roman alleyways, following our map, and suddenly we burst into this open plaza with bam, The Trevi Fountain, towering and sputtering and musical. We first came upon it at night, and the glow of the street lights and the sound of the water and the bundles of people hanging out there was truly exceptional. We hopped around the corner to grab gelato and came back to join the cool kids.
Or like that time we stumbled upon a bright yellow building with a little side alley of tables and chairs, and had the best pasta of our lives. Cacio e pepe, you stupid delight, you buttery, peppery goodness. They gave us fresh tomato bruschetta and little complimentary glasses of limoncello.
We went back on our last day, of course, just in case Da Francesco had been a dream.

I think I could write a love letter to every place I've traveled thus far, but Rome is just so packed full, it's heavy with sights and eats and meaning.
I suppose it's all in the details, and Rome had so many wonderful details.