We spent the morning at our favorite spot on the river, drinking coffee and giving into a shiver every so often. It's a chilly 54°F outside and I'm enjoying the change. I layered on some denim and these strange mustard-colored knit harem pants, which I found at the thrift store (along with Sam's L.L.Bean wool shirt, above).
Sitting there, with cold ears, Sam and I each described the hat we want to wear this autumn, and it turns out to be the same one—this one, really.
She reads anything and everything and even now hates to be disturbed and above all however often she has read a book and however foolish the book may be no one must make fun of it or tell her how it goes on. It is still as it always was real to her.
- Gertrude Stein, The Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas, 1933
I took a series of Polaroids during a road trip to/through Yellowstone two years ago, and just finally got around to framing and hanging them. They were always beautiful to me, but now they really mean something—those two weeks were two of my best.
Pitching tents in the Iowa dark, Amish picnic lunches in South Dakota, swing dancing into the morning in Wyoming, and then white water rafting in Montana just hours later, up into Canada for 36 hours without sleep, before crossing the North Dakota border and giving into a truck stop nap—all of that hanging there in three little squares beside my front door.
Hello, Saturday. Hello, summer. Hello, autumn. Hello, all.
I worked on the batter this morning while Sam ran an errand. Zesting lemons, beating egg whites, and then I thought, "I know what I'm missing!" I called Sam and asked if he could pickup the newest Tallest Man on Earth album, very casually, as if it were a grocery item, something small that I needed to complete a task.