nature's silence

Silence is such a quaint term. Can you actually hear it? No, most people would say, because silence is nothing but the absence of sound... right? Well, no. Silence is much, much more than that. You can hear it, just as long as you listen hard enough.

Silence is among the foamy waves, crashing on a sandy shore. In the trickle of a river among the tall grasses of a meadow. In a wood at dawn, among the ancient tree trunks. Amid the early morning mist, stretching across the countryside. In the patter of rain on a windowpane. It is the rumble of thunder before a storm. Silence is in the wind, whistling across the trees. In falling leaves during autumn. It is a snowflake, just settling on the ground. The first rays of sun, peeking over a hill. In birdsong in the morning & cricket lullabies at evening. It is the little peepholes of twinkling light, poked through the dark fabric of our night sky. It is in the golden light at sunset.

Nature's silence is everywhere. It listens, understands, & inspires. It connects with the deepest parts of our souls. All we have to do is slow down & observe a bit more. Be attentive. Can you hear it a little more clearly now?

hugs, eve

the boy who whistles

I watched him every day we were there. He never saw me but I always saw him. In my head I called him the boy who whistles. And the boy who whistles made me smile by living up to his name. Every day he would walk to the water, whistling whatever was in his head, I never knew what it was. Sometimes his dog would tag along or he would go barefoot or he would wear a towel around his shoulders. But he always whistled. It was such a carefree and happy sound that it stuck with me.
I never spoke to him, he never spoke to me. He never saw me, or maybe he did. The girl with a notebook, maybe that’s who I was to him. But probably not.
The boy who whistles taught me a valuable lesson in life, and he taught it to me without words, without recognition, without meaning to. He taught it quietly so that it’s remembered loudly.

--

It’s a true story, and I never forgot the boy who whistles. I hope I can impact another like he did me. In such a small, intriguing way. I have yet to write a fictional character based off him, I’m waiting for the right story.
x, abby

a short story about my opinions on snow

would you like to know something?
I actually, kinda, really, hate snow.
I don't know what it is about it.
it's probably the hassle of traffic where you slowly inch forward like caterpillars along the road
or and slip of the ice, that coats the driveways so thin you can glide in your sneakers.
personally, I think that this planet would do better off without it

on Sunday, I endeavored to take a few macro shots in my yard with the flakes drifting onto bushes and in the cracks of the bark on the trees.
I learned that this is no easy feat in a sweatshirt and moccasins during twenty-some degree weather. I came out with 3-7 decent shots before quickly rushing inside to snuggle by the laptop, cover myself in a blanket sip my hot chocolate.

so here, I present to you stephanie's 2013 snow pictures:

Enjoy them while they last my honey bunches there ain't gonna be more where that came from this season.

in the end,
I guess I can tolerate the snow in exchange for some pretty pictures.

the end
xx.
Stephanie

fluffy cloud, golden sun days.

the weather here in south texas has been consistently beautiful and i-feel-so-alive-and-inspired-ish.
we have had the kitchen windows and screen door open almost every day the last few weeks,
letting the cool breeze flow through the house, filling my soul with hopes and dreams.
the sun has shone gloriously gold every morning, and in the evening it burns orange and pink
behind the trees. the clouds have been fluffy and white against the stark blue sky, and sometimes
they look like brush strokes painted in the evening blue. as much as i adore rainy days, i think i
love these blue sky, fluffy cloud, golden sun days just a little bit more.
how's the weather where you are, friend?
gracie.

new in town

my name is candace and i like the color blue. i'm crazy about keds and cappuccino ice-cream and san pellegrino. i once ate this thing called nutella and it was instant love (sorry jocee). yes, my life revolves mostly around food. i have this obsession with thrift store sweaters and sock hats. i've always wanted a pet chameleon. or three. and i wear cardigans because of mr. rogers. i have this fear of heights and i love using disposable cameras. i watch america's funniest home videos when i'm bored and i listen to p!nk on the weekends. this is me. this is your new neighbor. i love this new house and i love the girls i'm going to boldly call my sisters. but you see, i'm not perfect or even remotely original. i make mistakes and i mess up big time sometimes. but my purpose in life is to not be perfect or beautiful or famous or funny. my mission is to be who i am. to not give a care to how the world sees me. because in the end, it won't matter how i looked throughout the years. what will be remembered are the things that i did with my life. so that's what my goal is as a new neighbor. to make an impact simply by being me.

xo,

candace.

to be the first.

i think i realised it a day or so after daddy brought it home from the library. i am the first person to check out this book. there were clues that backed my conclusion, subtle notes that several other people wouldn't think twice about. the smoothness of the cover, the blank checkout log except for my due date, the crisp, sharp edges of each page, and the black ink that showed evidence of this author's masterpiece; prominent and yet just right.

so as i curled up under the covers at a time where the lights were supposed to be out and i was supposed to be asleep, i realised i was the first one to throughly caress each page with my fingertips. to absentmindedly hold down either page and cause a crackling sound in the spine. to fold down the corners of pages where words resonated with me even deeper than the trenches of the ocean.

i am a voracious reader. i have lived so many lives through so many people. seen the most glorious things and felt the most wrenching sobs. though my body is young and my heart is ready to take on the world, my soul carries the feelings of others who have become more than just fictional characters in the many books i have read. the deep, earthy smell of each page is my bread, the vivid descriptions of times gone by are my water.

so here i am, reading the dangers of proximal alphabets by kathleen alcott. i nestle under the covers, alternating positions (on my back, stomach, or side) and promising myself just one more chapter in the wee hours of the morning. and i feel special, because i am the first to do so. 

hi, my name is jocelyn, and i really really really hate nutella. i guess you could say i founded/created this blog, but it wouldn't be what it is without the help of my six wonderful friends. i live for cupcakes and white chocolate, and i have this crazy ability to distinguish a brit from an american without either one of them talking. i write really long blog posts and i refuse to eat waffles without sausage and warm syrup. nice to meet you, i love you. :)

xx, jocee.