I didn't care if it was cold in my office all day, because it was worth having the window open so that I can hear the rain better. Little pathway-streams all over the glass, and thunder in the distance.

So many reasons for loving rain.

// rain song
// reflections in the sidewalk
// wild wind and tree dances
// thunder rumbling, trembling windows
// being pulled away into daydreams when a cloak of water and sound sets the world apart
// lightning that divides the sky, but only for a moment, and never looking the same way twice
// how the sound of rain compliments every melody

It's our turn for loving our surroundings and soaking it all in to our selves (and our clothes).

a finally day

© kimberly k. taylor-pestell, all rights reserved

I lost a race with my mind, and it seems I've forgotten how to fall asleep. The welcome rain-friend sings its perfect lullaby in gentle, soothing strains that match my heartbeat and connect me to this place. Chill makes a home in my toes despite blankets piled high, but I curl them 'round and 'round until they come alive again. My surroundings go missing every time my lids flutter to a close as I try to latch on to dreams and steady peace.

The sound of rain makes everything else disappear. I can not hear the cars driving past on their way to somewheres. I can not hear the neighborhood dog barking at nothing. I can not hear Nadia crooning and clawing at the carpet beneath our bedroom door hoping for a midnight confabulation. I can not heard the ruffle of the sheets when Jason stirs. I can not hear my own breathing.

Such poetry. To find quiet in the sound of rain.

iphone  | in lightened - hermonville, france 
© kimberly k. taylor-pestell, all rights reserved

 warming weather, leave us be

for overcasted mountain scapes

that bring on more inspired thoughts

and lift the gaze to whispered ways

 until it's cold enough to breathe

and build our fires for heaven's sake!

iphone | environmental self - hermonville, france
© kimberly k. taylor-pestell, all rights reserved

This happened.

It's hard to believe that since Jason's perfectly original, overcast autumn proposal two years ago yesterday, we have experienced so much newness. New jobs for both of us, a truly true wedding, the making of our first little home and finding out that being "us" really is the most naturally lovely thing I have encountered.

I am so happy with our little life together even when outside shadows taint clear days. And remembering that the true joy of two years ago, is one of those wonderful things I understand that no one else can possibly share in, except for Jason and me. Because it was just us there in that moment, sitting in a small, curtained photo booth waiting for the flash. And maybe that is why we can't ever forget.

And it doesn't even matter that when we returned to the Italian cafe this weekend, the wide glass windows shown through to a now vacant expanse waiting for a new buyer to come along with a new vision, or that our beloved little photo booth at the newspaper shop broke down and the owner had to bid it goodbye.

There may not be anything left of that day but our memories and priceless photo strips, but the beauty of it all hangs in the air like red paper kites, tails streaming in the wind.

Last night, I fell asleep to comforting rainfall. Strings of raindrops traveling in lines down window panes and making a gentle barrier between.

I woke at 5:15 a.m. and could not find sleep again and it has made for a lovely morning. With crisp, cold air beckoning me to meet autumn outside for some quality time, I bid my little Nadia-cat goodbye and went for a drive.

Sometimes, I forget how quiet and still early morning can be. You see people out on the streets who you never see because they're already gone by the time you venture out for the day. An entirely different set of people who rise early, make the first footprints in the dewy grass, and witness the start to the days we share together, apart.

Perhaps I would like making friends with the morning.

impossible film | quiet (versailles, france)

© kimberly k. taylor-pestell, all rights reserved

Today is a Wednesday. A Wednesday with delicious morning beverages and surrounding mists and crisp, cold weather for breath clouds and shivering.

I want to be outside listening to booted feet on cold pavement. To sit in the middle of its goodness and notice everything. And to pen some sentence-strings because it is the first day that really feels like October and it deserves to be embraced.

So, cheers to autumn, and to feeling inspired and content. To waiting all summer-and-spring long to find a chipper season-friend that can draw me in and make me feel a part of my surroundings. The season that feels like a truer expression of my being and lets me remember what it's like to reside in a deeper authenticity simply by existing while it exists, too.

Thanks for coming, friend. You are most welcome, so please stay a while.

polaroid | thank you for coming

© kimberly k. taylor-pestell, all rights reserved

I am thinking of her and strings of words that matter so much. Full words with experience and deep places in memory. I told her that reading her writing is a bit like drinking a song and feeling the ideas soak in as notes travel down, grasping meaning as lyrics are absorbed, until they become a part of you.

This might be like friendship. I want to believe in the existence of this kind of friendship. Pebbles, hued by the sun and shaped by water pathways, no two alike. You can never find them on purpose, which is inconvenient but more special. They surface in the middle of a moment and they stay, painting beautiful scenes and dreaming with you as long as long will have... as antiques that you guard with all that you can spare of yourself.

They might light the dark and whisper wonder-filled wisdom with gentleness and kindness. And it might feel like a breath.

iPhone 5, AltPhoto | at one with
 © kimberly k. taylor-pestell, all rights reserved

iPhone 5, AltPhoto | muse
 © kimberly k. taylor-pestell, all rights reserved

iPhone 5, AltPhoto | whimsy
 © kimberly k. taylor pestell, all rights reserved

The overcast skies and brisk morning temperature raised my hopes and I have been carrying around my brand spankin' new happy umbrella all day hoping for a few drops of rain.  I am not a weather-checker, so I am always surprised by rainfall or 100-degree weather.  But, I'll take the overcast wonder even if the rain is remiss.  So lovely, so fresh and envigorating.

Week- into busy weekend- into week- into busy weekend, seems to be the pattern lately.  Last night, Jason and I hauled and hawed and reorganized my garage in the hopes of storing this beautiful king-sized bed between now and July/August when we find our new home.  Probably too soon to be lifting things (given my recent fight with torticollis), but the bed is coming today or Thursday, so no choice!  We made excellent progress and Val was shocked and impressed at our ability to consolidate boxes and separate out her stuff from her daughter, Kirsten's storage, while still leaving (hopefully) ample room for the bed.

Last night, I was quite sore and had a little numb spot between my shoulder blades along my spinal collumn, probably not a good thing, but everything seems back to normal today with only the typical amount of pain and tightness that have been hovering since my trip the spasms desisted. 

And things are movin' movin' movin' and I have to look at that as a good thing. 

inkling:  tut tut | © kimberly k taylor, all rights reserved

27/29 | Twenty-Nine Days Challenge

Trying not to think too much about Scarlet and the decision Val will need to make today, I decided to go exploring during lunch.  I bundled myself up, took a walk in the rain beneath an over-sized white and blue umbrella, took care of some errands, and then stumbled upon a lovely dive called Root Beer Joe's nestled in Burlington Arcade in Pasadena just off of Lake.  I ordered a tuna sandwich, selected a specialty pop from their wide array, and- for once in my life- wasn't too shy to ask if I could take a few pictures to accompany my little blog post.  They were happy to let me putz around their shop, camera in hand.  They chuckled when another customer asked if they were new in town.  Apparently, they have been around for quite a while.

I took my lunch outside thinking I could weather the weather, but before long, the young man from behind the counter came out and asked if I might be more comfortable at a little room they had adjacent to their deli, home to a green set of shelves filled with specialty beers and a small four-seat glass table.  He helped me carry my Bubble Up inside while I grabbed my other belongings.  I spent the next few minutes trying to strategize how to eating such a gigantic sandwich.  An plentiful amount of tuna- prepared quite differently from your average tuna salad (cooked and then cooled, I expect)- onions, pickles, lettuce, and tomatoes on some kind of baguette with garlicky sauce,  kept me feeling as if I were in one of those "if it doesn't get all over the place, it doesn't belong in your face" Carl's Jr. commercials.  It was quite tasty, though I might ask for no onions next time and half the amount of tuna.  My little happa mouth just can't manage sandwiches that thick.

By the time I was finished, the rain had taken a lunch break, too.  So, with the remaining Bubble Up in one hand and the huge umbrella in the other (which is long enough to serve as a walking stick), I made my way back to work.  The walk is several blocks and then a few minutes into campus.  With the chilled wind and both hands occupied, I couldn't feel my hands by the time I reached the elevator, but it felt like a little adventure, which is good.  Especially when it is overcast and gloomy and you may have to say goodbye to the sweetest cat.

canon powershot | © kimberly k taylor, all rights reserved

new things



... a promise of marriage
... letters
... finding time
... holga
... job responsibilities
... navy cardigan

It has been light and heavy, simultaneously- light and dark, collaboratively.  and I cannot tell you where the time has gone and what has been done with it, exactly.  I can give you hints, hues, and happenstances, but no full pictures can be drawn.

December, what happened?  We were supposed to find quality time to just be together.  To cut snowflakes like last year- intricate, delicate beauties for stringing from ceilings and any edge from which they can be hung.  To learn, for once and for all, how to make those perfectly soft and chewy ginger cookies Brittany knows how to make.  To remember the Story and dwell on its beauty.  To pen and ink and watercolor my Christmas cards.  To sip hot cocoa or vanilla almond tea across the table from a friend.

Somehow, it all rushes past and I really have started to abhor the phrase, "hustle and bustle", but I will try to let that go and smile because all around me there are red, greens, and golds.  There is music circling and scents of cinnamon wafting around and twinkle lights making things feel more homey and personal than usual.

I truly do love Christmastime.  And this year, I am seeing Christmastime and the hope that is birthed with it.  And things seem to be slowing down even though, in actuality, they are speeding up.

{fuji instax mini:  their eyes were watching God}

© kimberly k taylor, all rights reserved