in which the trees are awakened and the glen laughs allegro|springtide overture.

those who contemplate the beauty of the earth find reserves of strength that will endure as long as life lasts. There is something infinitely healing in the repeated refrains of nature -- the assurance that dawn comes after night, and spring after winter. >> rachel carson, silent spring

springtime is the only season to which arrives in our glen's parlor in a timely and reliable manner. she floats across the countryside casting regal airs and feminine grace with an elegant gossamer train trailing behind her that stimulates life in the land deep with slumber. the jocund daffodils come first in the latter days of january, pompously displaying their bonnets on sunny afternoons and shuddering on the rainy ones, while the almond blossoms begin to blink and unfurl their shimmering beauty late in february and lilacs laugh in april time. an effervescent herald of sundry shrills of the waxwings and sparrows and doves alike compose the royal intricate fanfare preceding spring's entrance. the earth stiffens as to salute spring's royal procession, but for a day or two, and suddenly vernal life bursts forth in a celebration of cheerful sunshine, while little sunbeams comb through daffodil beds and the knotted branches of almonds quiver shyly as they present shimmering pearls. the crests of the heaving hills are speckled with trees shaking their boughs awake with life after a long winter's slumber, while the valleys fill with shooting sprays of blossoms kissed with the gentlest of pinks.

the world awakes in spring - and not even the most descriptive of adjectives or the keenest of poetic genius or the sharpest of lenses have any hope in capturing the notes of spring's concerto.

fare thee well, winter. hullo, springtime! 

what is your favorite element of springtide?
xx | the girl in her springtide garden.

to the moon and back|happy birthday, gabby dear!

a friend is a person who knows what you are saying, even if you're not talking. understands what you're feeling,even if you don't understand your own feelings yourself.will always forgive you, usually before you forgive yourself. >> sarah bennett << 

it was just a comment. one simple nonchalant statement on a small-town girl's old blog. however, it became more than just that. her thoughtfulness lead to an email - a simple email filled with knitting resources and warm wishes at my succeeding in my failing attempts at knitting. this was a girl, I little knew, yet somehow felt a genuine love - the sister in Christ type of love - all enveloped within that small electronic message. and somehow that simple email, tugged at my heartstrings, touched me so very deeply, and a seed of a friendship was planted.

to-day. we are here. two years past with many long-distance phone calls, late night skype messaging, video chatting, and a bundle of handwritten letters to count. and you know what? I don't know how I could have lived {more liked survived} these past two years without her. she is the girl who inspires me in everything she does, whether she snaps a photograph, hand-writes a little postcard and sends it to me just because, or she publishes a little essay about her life on in her little corner of the blogging world which always seems to stir something I never knew was within my heart. and there's loads to say about her as she enters into her sixteenth year. like how she is as sweet as her pumpkin spice bars are {not to mention talented for coming up with that recipe}; like how she is a little drop of sunshine in my life that transforms my cloudy days into good ones and good days into fantastic ones; like she's the one who's thoughtful and takes the extra measure of being beyond considerate and supports me in everything, and like how she always makes the best of surrounding circumstances. I am honored and blessed beyond words to say that she is one of my dearest friend and adopted sister in the whole wide world.

darling girl, I wish you could see yourself how I view you, as a beautiful, creative, smart, wise, sweet, inspiring, talented, life-changing friend and godly young lady but most importantly to show you how our Heavenly father views you :: as a faithful servant and a bright light in a very dark world. there's so many things I could wish you as you enter into your sixteenth, and to name only a few: I pray that you will grow closer to our wonderful Savior, that new opportunities open before you, that your days will be filled to the brim with only the fondest of memories, and our friendship will only continue to strengthen as the years go by.

sweet girl {-er, your not a girl anymore but a beautiful sixteen year old lady ;)}, I wish I could be with you in person - for a moment - to give you a little squeeze, but until we meet {maybe sooner than you would expect ;)}, I send you from the bottom of my heart my love that extends no less than to the moon and back a million times o'er.    

happy sweet sixteen, dearest gabby!

love you lots, my dearest turkey!

x | your goosey girl. 

dancing on cloud nine.

on with the dance! let joy be unconfined;                                                                                            no sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet                                                                          to chase the glowing hours with flying feet.                                                                                             Lord Byron

it was my first victorian ball. the muffled sounds of ladies' melodious laughter, stifled squeals, and the rustling of cascading folds of satin skirts mingled about the room, while quiet "pardon me's" from shy gents were whispered occasionally if one "inconveniently" happened to collide with one of the blushing maidens. each surrounding young lady appeared to have another linked with her arm, and the clusters consisting of lace frills and satin ruffles reminded me of chrysanthemums in full bloom. the anticipated whisper rippled through the crowd, "the dancing is starting!" and soon the gymnasium was transformed into "fairyland" as miss fairfax would describe. a handsome young gentleman, unknown to my acquaintance, extended his gloved palm toward me and as soon as the first notes of music filled the room, a night of reels, quadrilles, waltzes, and polkas had begun.

    grand march, soldier's joy, gay gordon, virginian reel, waves of tory, spanish waltz, rip and snort, polka - the evening was filled with much california twirling, promenading,  whirling, breathless laughing, and merry-making as we danced atop the late hours on feet that never felt like they touched the ground. the shutters that dared to capture the magic, caught raw moments blurred with movement and faces that were beaming with laughter. 'twas an unforgettable night that will forever be imprinted within my mind. 
cloud nine is a beautiful place, dear reader, as long as one is prepared for sore feet the next morn. wink lovingly, the girl dancing in her garden.  postscript :: my daddy is the best chaperon one could ever ask for. ;)