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.

"We can't have the same hat!"

"Well, only one of us knows how to knit."

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

Coffee, slept-in braids, wet shoes (from getting caught in a storm on our ride back from this), and one messy kitchen, with five jars of pickled beets—and five more of okra, now—to show for it.

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.

I followed this tutorial for French framing, using this mat cutter and 8" x 10" pre-cut glass and backing.

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.

This seems like the perfect time to do something like this, since it's all so tangible:
LISTENING The Tallest Man on Earth and (his wife) Idiot Wind (Thanks, Molly!)
WATCHING Sleepwalk with Me and The Imposter
EATING Sprouted Kitchen's Lemon Pancakes
READING The Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas by Gertrude Stein

Now we've moved on to a sultry Julie London record. Things are moving very slowly around here today, and that—that feels fine.

So long, so long.

[PHOTOS BY SAMUEL, TAKEN DURING THIS TRIP]

A tale of this morning's breakfast.

I haven't been using this space lately because I've been so busy out there, using that space. Out there in the garden, out there at the beach, out there on my bike, on my feet.

I'll be back, in time.

On another note—but still that of summer—I made the peanut butter and honey variant of this tonight, and it was delicious.

I give you another in a series of messes, this time taken at dusk. Sam's bringing home my favorite green curry and we'll spend the evening tidying, preparing for Ashlee's visit tomorrow—we're going to a couple ball games and then I'm traveling back to Louisville with her for the weekend.

If you'd like to follow along, I've started—like, yesterday—instagramming @jessicakleoppel, much to my friends' approval. I'm plunging back into the world of social media, hoping to find a happy medium of connection and inspiration instead of feeling overwhelmed and shutting it all down. (The constant desire for or dependence on new content is a scary feeling for me and one I'd like to avoid.)

How do you find the balance? Suggestions and insight are very welcome.

Samuel in the summertime.

Summer's taking it easy on me tonight, sitting on the rug with the breeze from the rotating fan catching me every 15 seconds or so. I just put on an old Kurt Vile record that reminds me so much of when we first moved into this apartment a year ago. It reminds me of sitting beneath this rug, on the floor, before I ever found the jute thing on Craigslist, before there was any of our furniture at all.

It's hard for me to listen to music that once meant so much—I guess, because it still means so much. It's of a certain time, and, although I'm a big fan of change, I can't wrap my head around time passing. Instead of the years building up and accumulating and becoming this life, I feel like mine is a book of short stories, cohesive only in the way that they're created by the same author.

As Kurt sings, and I so easily relate: "I don't know if it's real, but it's how I feel."

I'm tucked away someplace quiet for the week, where I have to venture out for internet and phone access in the morning. Now I'm sitting in a little cafe, getting some work done and listening to the locals talk about triathlons, traveling, Santa Claus—conversation flowing seamlessly between faces who see each other every day, and probably have for a decade. Have you ever been "a local"? I'm not sure I have since leaving my hometown, but it seems like it'd be such a nice feeling, such an easy feeling.

Above—a place I do frequent, though there's no one to know me by name—my favorite lunch break reading spot.

Sarah, Sam's sister, emailed me about a vegan cooking blog she's been fancying lately, and I spent that same evening preparing two recipes. The beauty of this pair is that it was quick and refrigerated overnight, which meant waking up to a prepared meal, which felt . . . great.

I've been cooking more simply this past week—meals that take 15 minutes to prepare instead of an hour. This morning I had overnight oats and iced chocolate chai (using this local tea), and tonight: sprouted toast with goat cheese, black pepper, sliced cucumber, a fried egg, and Sriracha.

Here are a few from Victor and Rajiv's garden, where I pull a few weeds sometimes, but have a beer on the back deck always. V packs me up with vegetables, herbs, and flowers, and this time he took my photo too.

They have the most wonderful family, neighbors, and friends—hi, guys!—and a gorgeous apartment you can see here and here.

[PHOTOS FROM A DISPOSABLE CAMERA]

Molly featured me in her Style Muse series today. You can see another photo and read the Q&A here.

Thanks, Molly!

1/ Muffin and coffee at Random Order Coffeehouse & Bakery.
2/ Coffee date with Anne and our cameras at Coava.
3/ Beer with Ally at Rogue Distillery & Public House.
4/ Schoolhouse Electric & Supply Co. (and their logo!) is an incredible and inspiring space to see.
5/ Green curry at a Thai food cart as it was . . .
6/ Pouring rain in downtown Portland.

This will probably be the last Portland set I'll share. The trip gave me a lot of perspective and got me excited about things I've been meaning to do, especially concerning my apartment—but I'll talk to you about that later.

Thanks, Ally and Jake, for everything.

You have to visit the Oregon coast, where the ocean swells, the heart swells, and you find starfish the size of your head.

One of two long hikes we took in Forest Park. Afterward, as the sun began to set, we shared a croque-monsieur, beet salad, and sparkling lemonade outside at St. Honoré Boulangerie. I asked Ally if she wanted coffee and dessert and we both laughed—of course we were getting coffee and dessert.