Sometimes I think everything looks lovelier through the viewfinder of a vintage camera - in this case an old Beirette which has seen better days. I'm still slightly high on the illicit buzz of floral thievery, Sunday afternoon brought a long drive back from a wedding in Devon and I couldn't help noticing there were Hydrangeas absolutely everywhere. I may have asked T to pull over and keep the engine running, getaway driver style, so I could jump out of the car and snap off a head of pink prettiness from an overgrown Hydrangea bush. I regret nothing.
Since I got home I've been hanging out in the spare-room-cum-Jem-office more than usual playing around with making a few things and setting up some clippy inspiration bunting (technical term) of pretty things that strike a chord and keep me smiling. I have stacks of old photos from the 1900s onwards - both found photos and old family snaps but it struck me that I rarely print out pictures of my own so I picked 50 or so shots from the past year and now have hard copies which feels like such a luxury. Must get my rolls of film developed next!
Lately I've been reminding myself to dream. It is so easy to become bogged down in everyday life, or to be preoccupied with cheering other people on to achieve their goals and forget that you have some of your own. It can feel like a guilty pleasure or a dirty secret to have a dream, something you keep in a box on top of the wardrobe and only bring down for a peek on high days and holidays - difficult to admit to yourself let alone to the world, but every now and then something will remind you that anything is possible.