San Francisco, 2010. I walked the streets of Mission, watched a man dangle mid air in front of the ferry building, attempted a vegetarian diet, and met many a dapper French bulldog.
Hoping I get back this decade…
San Francisco, 2010. I walked the streets of Mission, watched a man dangle mid air in front of the ferry building, attempted a vegetarian diet, and met many a dapper French bulldog.
Hoping I get back this decade…
Gardens don’t just happen. They come about as a product of intention, tending, time, and a little bit of biological luck. One might say they’re a lot of work. Maybe even too much work. But the soul of a place, the enrichment from the fruits, or harvests, or even just being there with all senses, these are rewards worth any of the perceived toil. A garden can be a messy wild place, a dormant place, a manicured place, a thriving place. All of it a part of the seasons, all of it pointing to the balance of what it means to be a garden. I’m so grateful for these spaces.
To Bryan, Happiest 16th Anniversary. I love you.
Sometimes an image captures a feeling so much better than anything I could write. Today is one of those times. All the best this week, friends!