Lo's Toes..

if you've lived here forever then you know there is only one requisite footwear option... 


secret garden

the very best garden of all time, maybe. 


turkeys have souls too

and it seemed unfair to her, that her passion translated into a profession that provided for her life. where as others had to divide their time between what they loved and what they had to do in order to do what they loved. they had to strive towards something that fed their soul and struggle through something just to feed them self. she viewed it as luck and a blessing that she resided upon the side of the line that didn’t have to wrestle with the world to carve out a life. she just hoped that this ease didn’t one day translate to complacence. 


Lo needs..

to go on a vacation. away from the grove. beyond the borders. somewhere without internet access for sure.. 


Lo's Toes..

The place where i walk. without shoes, without worries, with my pants rolled up and my expectations rolled down. there is no where better than the empty ocean front as the sun sets on summer and the winter begins. 



the road winds up
to the place where i learn. 
the value of learning. the value of trees. 
the value of self. 
the value of transparency.
the value of mountain tops, and the fall from them. 


you and me

I once knew a boy from Saskatchewan. His hair was the corn and his skin the sun. One night as we lay side by side, he told me of how he missed his home. The flat. When you walked home at night you could see the lights of the next town over. And how in the winter, it all turned bright white. And the sky. It was bigger than everything else. Some days it was storms, and others cotton clouds. Sometimes inky black with stars spilt everywhere. The best days though, the sky was just blue. In the dark it was so quiet. The loudest sounds were those you made yourself.


And I couldn’t help think about how terrible it all sounded. I couldn’t stand to live without my mountains. So tall and strong. Cradling me in their valleys. The song of the ocean always singing to me, never quieting enough to allow me to hear sounds in the night. How the word green could never contain all the facets of the forest. The trees. Some big and some small. How they grew together in groves. Coniferous families, roots deep into the ground branches reaching to the heavens.  How they obscured the sky, and let light shine through their arms and form pools of sun in the dirt.


I loved how my world made me feel small, made me feel protected. And he loved how his made him feel huge. How it made him feel powerful. To him storms were lightening and snow, to me they were warm wind and rain. 



cracked sidewalks. or no sidewalk at all,
because it is a home. where you may live, where you may die.
streets you have walked.
you will walk again. 


the past this far

i like old things. i like thrift store pants and leftover dinner. i like cameras with film. i like to draw with a pen. it's not that i don't like change, that i won't embrace technology. i just like the way it feels. i like how heavy the fabric is in your aunt's coat. I like it when the flavors in my soup have time to blend and mix and get to know one another overnight in the fridge. i like the wait and the romance of wondering how my photos will develop. i like to take the time and the force to hammer out each letter in a word, hearing the audible click of my typewriter echoing through the room.  i like that when i make a mistake it stays on the page, i cannot escape it.  this being said i understand the necessity of the future, if anything it only intensifies the past. 



the river is dark. you can see the lights of the industrial lands. all the machines and the factories on the shore. the moon is bright, almost full. we can pretend. a dot in the black. where did the stars go? the ceiling of course. 



no ketchup please

i felt like i was always rising up to the occasion. i was always the shoulder to cry on. i was the first one called when the rainclouds rolled in, and the last when the sun shone. don't get me wrong, i love the rain. i love to help, i love to be necessary. but every so often i have a thunderstorm of my own. i need to be helped. and help is a hard thing to ask for. he knew that aswell. so all of a sudden we were throwing ourselves into whichever pursuit would illicit the most dismal result. i didn't have to say a word as he carried my lifeless body, waited for me to come down and sober up. he didn't need to ask me to clean the blood from his hands.  we played this game of saviour and saved. and everything i did wrong, everytime he hurt me, it would all fall back to zero as the roles reversed. back and forth, checked and balanced, up and down. can you blame me for falling in love with the one who never forgot i like pepper on my french fries, but couldn't remember my birthdate? 


lo's Toes..

I found something in a lightening storm, with heavy rain and thunder like melted storm, yeah, when everything seems to wash away, I walk here with just two feet on the ground, ground, ground, ground.