Journal

The dream isn't grand, neither is the desire. Rather to create something that gives this chapter of my life meaning. Something to look back on, when I am older, or old, I suppose. Sitting on my porch, overlooking gentle rolling hills. Or perhaps it's a lake. Or a meadow. Or the sea. Or fields of lavender in Provence. Something to look back on. With a small content smile. "I did that once." That all these little things add to my makeup of my being. I do not want to be...

Study for the dream. These past few weeks I have been diving deep into unknown knowledge territory. Studying and learning more about the process of crafting and creating garments from the ground up. It has been a huge feat that I know I don't give myself enough credit for, so I suppose I am taking this moment to show myself a bit of kindness. "You're doing good kid."  I do feel something like pride with how much focus and attention I have been able to devote to this and still...

The past few days we spent on Vashon Island, a quick ferry ride away from Tacoma (or Seattle) and I was instantly smitten. I had always wanted to visit because I felt like this charming island in the Puget sound would be the perfect backdrop for the newest chapter of floral printed dresses. We rented a charming little farmhouse near the center of the island that was intentionally minimally decorated with antique finds.   That afternoon we spent driving around the island and exploring possible locations for future photoshoots. It was frigid,...

Maybe if I speak it into being, This thing, This amorphous thing. Like trying to grasp fog.  I see walls, And light, soft, natural, And shadows too, Since one cannot exist without the other. And this desire to create, to show, to share. What these two hands are capable of,  When heart and mind are at play. These things take time. And I know, once the path is lit, I'll thread easily down that road, But for now the map feels too bare. Everything feels too forced. Feels lacking.