Day 108

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Oh, hello friend.

So, I'm back. 

Done with school. With finals. With roommates. With winter.

And you know what? I'm pretty damn excited about it.

My brain is simply buzzing with all of its freedom and room for creativity. So much so that it can't hardly sit still. Seriously. I feel like an unattended four year old with soda and a free puppy.

I have all of these hopes and dreams with room to buzz around in the brisk spring air, and in the hopes of herding some of them into so I can address them properly, I made a list.

I love lists. Did you know that? I think that's why I could never live through an electric planner: No lists. At least not my kind. The kind that can be scribbled out with enthusiasm and/or rage. The kind that float in my handwriting across the page, a sort of casual waltz between two clumsy partners - not terribly polished most days, but the elegance still does its best to shine out from the steps. 

Lists are my sanity, my refuge, my joy. And this list is especially joyful, I think, because it is a list of fun/wonderful/enriching/healthy/liberating things I hope to have experienced (not accomplished) by the time Fall Term rolls around in September. 

*he-hem*

Farmer's markets on Saturday mornings
Exploring new places (on foot preferably)
Picking wildflowers
Learning to sew some
Playing more
Sunbathing
Exploring libraries
Making/enjoying homemade ice cream and popsicles
Salads
Stretching
Reading for fun
Taking pictures (more)
Saving up
Going make-up less
Being barefoot
Feeding ducks

Lavender Lemonade
Painting
Watching a sunrise
Watching a sunset
Dancing in the rain
Stargazing
Writing letters

Dresses on weekdays

Climbing trees

etc.

 

In case I haven't mentioned it a million and one times, I love summer, and this list is fairly decent representation of why. It is fun and warm and artful and refreshing and romantic and adventurous just like one of my favorite Robert Frost poems, The Pasture:

 

I'm going out to clean the pasture spring; 

I'll only stop to rake the leaves away.

(And wait to watch the water clear, I may)

I shan't be long.

You come too.