these people.


(nana, chloe, rayvn, zephyr, kazan)

The city dares you to let your words be heard. The woods dare you to silence them; just to listen for a while. It's something I've learned this summer, flitting between the two extremes of bustling metropolis and quiet haunts. The list of cities I'd like to visit someday is a long one, yet something inside me knows I'll always come back to woodland life. To country life, to lake life, to farm life, to prairie life. To sky-in-every-direction life. 
  • s'mores
  • catching frogs
  • canoeing around the bay
  • naps in the sun
  • wearing pyjamas, too-big sweatshirts, and glowsticks twenty four seven
  • laughing a lot
  • kicking out the boys so we could have a girl's night
  • inviting the boys back in the morning to make us pancakes (those guys. they are wonderful.)
  • playing with the chickens
  • llama kisses from alice and opal
That was the agenda for our weekend spent back at the cabin and in the bush (cousins' farm in the middle of nowhere). I didn't think much of these photos at the time, but looking through them now - they are some of my very favourites. It's not so much the angles or the light or the colours. It's these people. It's Kazan's animated bonfire stories and Chloe's ability to catch fourteen frogs in one net. It's Rayvn's quirky little dances and Meadow's way of understanding and sharing my bizarre sense of humour. It's not me who makes my favourite photos. It's these people.

They're pretty great.

half a day in winnipeg.


August has been kind to us. It's been keeping us busy, but the kind of busy you wish you could always be. Yesterday we drove out to the city. First, supper at deer + almond. We people-watched at our window seat (i think Winnipeg may be The City of Beautiful People) and made up life stories and situations for each passerby. Second, a James Vincent McMorrow concert that I am still tongue-tied about. All I know is that this made my sister and I cry and live music is really just the best. 

on the calendar for august
drive-in movies | going back to the cabin | coffee and beach dates | harvest time | the fair | seeing the littles | round two of the lake | a bit of nothing and spontaneous plans i know nothing about yet

at the cabin.


My aunt and uncle have had their eyes on this place for years - a tiny, reception-less getaway that just needs a bit of love. It's theirs now, and we gathered to prove it, leaving trails of pizza crumbs and wet footprints behind us. We made our mark, and it's made it's mark on me. Whenever I get to spend the day at a cabin, I can't help but feel like I might be getting a small glimpse of things to come. My future, per se. All I know right now is that August is looking full of promise. Here's to another month of this season.

(view in HD. your eyes will thank you.)