Jessica Brannen.
Halifax, Nova Scotia.

Lately: September, my yearly crush on you. Though you're confusing and moody you're fascinating. There is a lot swirling around in your days and dawns and slanting light and dusks and winds and downpours. It is not like dust particles floating in sunlight at all.

Listening to: The Radio Dept., New Order, LCD Soundsystem, The Drums, Max Richter, Four Tet, John Maus, Purity Ring,
Darkstar, Maya Jane Coles

Reading: Emily Dickinson, Pablo Neruda, Virginia Woolf, Tove Jansson, Alain de Botton- Essays in Love, Mary Oliver, short stories by Haruki Murakami

Watching: Pippi Longstocking

Scotch tape, play doh, book pages and freshly cut grass on top ranking smells list.

Persnickety yet easy-going?
And no more naturally austere than you are naturally vicious. (Charlotte Brontë)

Middle child.

You can make me a Mexican feast and bring me tulips or cosmos.

Bookish, journal-writin' type.

Grew up in the country, playing on the beach and in the woods. Still spend a lot of time there. You can hear roosters.

Lived in Sweden for many years and speak Swedish. Love Sweden and Finland. Visit every year.

Hollyhocks and delphiniums.

Studied art, photo, film and textiles. Have a love of all things arts and crafty. Also gardening, sewing, and writing.

Remember rolling down the hill?

Remember picking Fool's Gold out of the road with butter knives?

Remember that time we sneaked into that white abandoned house and saw a wedding dress in the closet?

Let's go swimming in the ocean.

And go thriftin'.

I can peel carrots really fast.
I'm left handed.
I wish to find secret letters or notes hidden in old walls.
I love good old-fashioned letters.
I love quilts.
I love scraps.
I make a mean pancake.
Collective nouns are funny.

Over and out.
Take a July night, for instance. About ten o’clock, -when man is asleep, and day fairly forgotten,- the beauty of moonlight is seen over lonely pastures where cattle are silently feeding. On all sides novelties present themselves. Instead of the sun there are the moon and stars, instead of the wood-thrush there is the whip-poor-will,-instead of butterflies in the meadows, fireflies, winged sparks of fire! Who would have believed it?

— Henry David Thoreau, Excursions

Glaciers move in tides.
So do mountains.
So do all things.

John Muir, Letters from Alaska

(Source: anintimatewoman, via awelltraveledwoman)

4,266 notes, Comments
How do we know, then, when a code’s been cracked? … when we are right? … when do we know if we have even received a message? W hy, naturally, when, upon one set of substitutions, sense emerges like the outline under a rubbing; when a single tentative construal leads to several; when all the sullen letters of the code cry TEAM! after YEA! has been, by several hands, uncovered.

— William Gass

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He could feel his heart beating against the pine needle floor of the forest.

— Ernest Hemingway, from For Whom the Bell Tolls 

(Source: the-final-sentence)

114 notes, Comments

look at some leaves


drink some water

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Going up the side of a cliff about the first of November, I saw a vigorous young apple-tree, which, planted by birds or cows, had shot up amid the rocks and open woods there, and had now much fruit on it, uninjured by the frosts, when all cultivated apples were gathered. It was a rank wild growth, with many green leaves on it still, and made an impression of thorniness. The fruit was hard and green, but looked as if it would be palatable in the winter. Some was dangling on the twigs, but more half-buried in the wet leaves under the tree, or rolled far down the hill amid the rocks. The owner knows nothing of it. The day was not observed when it first blossomed, nor when it first bore fruit, unless by the chickadee.

— Henry David Thoreau, Excursions

1 note, Comments

Do you have any dirty clothes?

Astrid’s been obsessed with the idea of doing laundry in this washer and dryer, and is constantly asking me if we have enough to do another load. She likes putting the clothes in. She likes putting the soap in. She likes pressing the buttons. She likes closing the door. She’s taken to checking back on the load to see how many minutes are left before she can transfer the clothes from the washer to the dryer. If there aren’t many, she’ll wait like this.

Today she stepped it up a notch, though, inviting Axel to come sit and wait/watch on little chairs, where she had set up a snack table with little yoghurts on it.

3 notes, Comments

what grows

3 notes, Comments
3 notes, Comments