This past week, I had the opportunity (which is an odd word to use because it was sort of a salvaging of an already lost opportunity, but there you go) to visit Rhode Island. I had always wanted to visit Rhode Island ever since watching the beloved sitcom/drama (is it a sitcom?? that feels like the wrong genre) Providence with my parents when I was younger. It solidified my obsession with all things New England and my perpetual want to always have a sweet, lovable golden retriever by my side. I think that and my love of Lands End really did it for me.
Well, those dreams came true when I was able to rent a car in Manhattan and drive up the eastern coast through Connecticut and to the city of gorgeous history herself, Providence. I only had a solid six hours of sunlight between the night before and the next morning before having to go back to New York, so I decided to take a short ride around the city. Through true dumb luck, and I say this honestly because my GPS wasn’t working, I drove up on the oldest, longest, most well preserved mile of American colonial architecture in the country: Benefit Street. Read More
The perfect example of the beauty and ugliness that makes up my neighborhood.
I remember I asked this once before, but I’d like to pose the question again: what do you love or hate about where you live? (and) Do you find yourself ever editing your neighborhood to show the best of it, or do you share the nitty gritty no matter what? Read More
While hiking, I had the most beautiful, open conversation with Claudio, both of us struggling to converse in the other’s native tongues, but nevertheless trying our best. Between my broken Italian, his (fabulous imo) English, and both our expressive gestures, we talked about politics, life, future goals, and the environment. To this day I can’t quite remember every word that passed between us, but I can remember the fulfilling, entirely uplifting weight in my heart and soul. It was unlike any conversation I ever had, and probably will ever have. There was no way to try and bullshit each other; we didn’t have the ability to even try. Read More
Last month on our way back to Wisconsin, mom and I drove through Badlands National Park. I don’t have enough words to express how otherworldly it felt to be out in the true middle of nowhere, hardly more than two or three cars around us. Read More
Though it’s October (almost November) in the Pacific Northwest, my grandfather continues to cultivate the loveliest garden. Currently, his zinnias are in bloom and they’re splashed about the backyard like a wild watercoloring of summer. No rain or grey clouds can take away from their vibrant colored petals.
Just like him, my mother also has a touch of the gardening witchcraft in her veins. She attempted to pass these skills down to me, but let’s just say I work best with wildflowers (aka, minimum workload) species. Read More