on childhood wonder and clouds made from dough.

 

hi!

how are things?

it feels like ages since we've chatted

i miss you guys!

i've just a moment

but let's talk a little about wonder
the whimsical childlike sort.


___



i can pinpoint the moment i first felt it, wonder that is.
it was spring and i was four, maybe five.

i remember it like it happened last week.
like the way you remember the first time you had bread
warm from the oven.

i sat crouched on the green grass
in the lower field 
to the front of my grandparent's home.
there were two fields there
a top and a bottom
the pitch of both starting north
and bending just slightly 
south, edged in fences of worn wood
and divided through the center
with a rickety gate.






there was a barn that sat to the left side
and up on the hill, my grandparent's home.

there was swimming pool behind it
and a deck that wrapped right the way 'round.
there was a garage and a fish pond
and place where an old truck sat.






i wasn't alone there
my cousin sat near to me
with my great grandfather 
between us two.
he was a man 
i can't explain to you now
i don't know the colour of his hair
or the shade of his eyes.
i don't remember the lilt of his voice
nor the way he walked.
i only remember his hands.
like it were yesterday
i remember those hands.












he was kneeling down beside me
his elbows bent and his hands cupped
filled with small violets
he had plucked
from between shards of green grass.
his fingers cracked,
dry around the edges 
worn with age.
but his heart tender i think,
showing us two little girls 
those tiny wild flowers.






i can see the stems
the green and fresh that they were.
the watery kind of string that seemed
to fall from their ends.









and i'll tell you,
it was those violets that got me to wonder.
it was the tiny specs of white
that seemed to hover

near the deep dark of their centers.
it was the shape of their petals
how uniformly together 
they seemed to be.

it was the fascination
that such pretty little things 
were in a field, growing

where the horses came to eat.






it's kinda beautiful, that. 

even today

wonder wakes me each morning.

and at night all that thought,
it puts me back to sleep.

for me, wonder is the root of magic

and i think that's pretty great.

that's all for now friends
see you next week.





xox, n

and because it's what i do:

this lace

this hair
this place

this jacket

this drink 
to live (via)

this hill

this krenit bowl in black

these bedding shots  (via)

this pillow

this talk

this rainbow

this necklace
these ceramic cans

this article

hakone mountaineering

me over on oh joy

 and for just a little silly