the only peeling i had known until last weekend was birch...and i wish i could write about the arbutus trees that burned red, as if in mid-day they were caught in sunset, peeling back to the smoothest skin my hands have ever touched.
~
sandwiched between a soccer game
and a waterballon fight,
the evening curls around,
then away from
my tucked-under feet.
~
how your garden stories poems have inspired.
summer has finally reached vancouver. humidity-less sunshine. glorious. i can't stop listening to a singalong with justin rutledge recorded live from the cameron house and melissa mcclelland's thumbelina song. glorious music to end the day with...off for a hiking adventure this weekend.
lovelovelove to you lady r! wishing i could be stuffing monsters alongside you*
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