I'll write you a postcard
I'll send you the news
From a house down the road from real love...
I've spent the last few days meeting with friends and saying goodbye to favorite places.
And trying to fit all my earthly possessions into two plastic containers from Ikea.
My friends and I played in this forest almost every day when we were little. We made a little house out of old bricks and wood- it was pretty advanced for second graders if I say so myself. We even had a thatched roof until a storm blew it down.
The ruins of the house. I tied my lucky ribbon to that stick so many years ago and it's still there.
It was a bit bittersweet because we always used to sit on this enormous log that jutted out from the side of the hill onto another tree, like a huge bench in the air. We tried to sit on it now and we pretty much broke it. That didn't stop us from sitting on it anyway though. What lovely, stubborn log-breaking people we have grown into over the years.
What a perfect tree for sitting and pretending to be a fairy
Beautiful mangled wood
We successfully scared away wildlife with our old panflute, bought from Mayan musicians at an arts festival back when there still was an arts festival at our town.
Over this log is a magical kingdom
This was pretty much the most incredible thing we found that day- on the side of a hill we found this little patch of pure white roses. I'm not sure if they really were roses but they looked so much like them- only they were small and entirely white and smooth.
They reminded me of some Tim Burton illustration, they looked so ethereal. We decided to give them company in the form of a red hawk feather we had found. They were so tiny and gorgeous and looked so unreal.