dear east coast,
other than the mosquitoes, you were dreamy. i miss your dark nights, the trees that reached their spindly fingers toward the sky, the novelists walking in the woods, knitting in hand.
don't get me wrong, i'm quite happy to be home. in fact i'd really like to stay here a bit longer and start cutting out that fabric i laid out upstairs, seeing if i can make it into a dress. i'd like to spin that pile of wool on the floor into that yarn i'm thinking of - the one that looks kind of like frosted candy lying on the grass at sunset with big billowy clouds in the sky. i'd like to run to the beach and back with that kings of leon song i love playing in my ears.
but that can all wait a bit longer. we have one more family adventure away from home to go. we are bringing loads of embroidery floss to curb our obsession with the purl bee bracelets + the hasselblad + those jill draper socks i'm working o. and a pile of books.