This evening my mom said she can feel summer slipping away, she feels it in her bones, and there’s a bit of a chill in the air at night.
I feel we should probably make the most of the remaining nice days left, and hope still for a spectacular autumn.
I read something brilliant yesterday; “The days are long, but the years are short”, which is essentially how I feel about the passing of time; it’s a quote by happiness expert Gretchen Rubin and it speaks to me.
The take away here is to engage less in those activities that make the days seem long, and I’m trying…

A silly thing happened to me this past weekend; a tiny wood splinter got stuck in my hand and as much as I tried, I couldn’t get it out.
Wedged under my skin, it was so tiny you could barely see it. I picked at it with tweezers for hours, but it only made the skin around it sore.
It’s remarkable how a tiny speck can make one so miserable – I imagined life with a splinter permanently embedded in my hand, and the possibility of losing my hand from infection.
Drama aside, the internet can be dangerous enabler when you’re desperate, I almost hacked off my fingers with an X-Acto knife.
Thankfully, cooler heads prevailed, I didn’t get to play doctor with a sharp knife.
I went to the urgent care centre first thing the next morning, where a nice doctor after a shot of local anaesthesia, broke the skin open and got the splinter out.

So how did I manage to get a sharp piece of wood stuck inside my palm?
The bloody train tracks! That’s how.

I’ve heard a lot of sad news lately; of people passing away… loved ones, people I’ve known and strangers I wish I’d known.
Last month, my uncle N. passed away after several years of illness.
It was hard on my mom; he was her first cousin, but older and more like an uncle whom she adored dearly.
I didn’t know my uncle N. very well; I only met him a few times but I remember him fondly.
My uncle loved tradition; he was an oral historian who told incredible stories of ancestors I wouldn’t have known otherwise.
His narratives were always riveting with mythical elements.
I loved the stories because it was a connection to exploring my lineage.

I wore black the day after we got the news.
It’s tradition.
It was a sunny spring day, and all around me were nature’s colours; greens and pinks, and whites and blues…
But I wore black… in reverence to my uncle… because it’s tradition.

Outfit Details: Dress – Benetton | Boots – Feet First | Sunglasses – Joe Fresh

I want to try optimism this month.
It was suggested that I start each day by pulling back the curtains, looking unto the skies and allowing a wave of gratitude to wash over me; gratitude for another day and the greatness it holds.
This morning I looked outside towards the skies and all I saw was gloom, rain and dark angry clouds.
The morning felt like an evening foreshadowing an ominous night.
I thought of a quote I’d seen recently, the writer describing his despair said he felt like he lived in the set of ‘The Killing’
This analogy felt accurate this morning, except I really do live on the set of ‘The Killing’
The US version is shot here! Vancouver plays Seattle on the show.
Here are a few shots that could complement the show…

I want to try optimism this month…
I heard someone play ‘Keep The Home Fires Burning’ last night, I hadn’t heard it in ages, but it’s stuck in my head – I hummed it all day
It’s one of those weird songs I learnt from my father, you probably don’t know this song, unless you were around during the First World War in Britain. Neither was my dad… but he was a war buff.
It was still stuck my head this morning when I pulled back the curtains, and at that moment this wartime song seemed fitting.
Especially the last lines, which I naturally changed;

Turn the dark clouds inside out
Till the sun comes out

And by noon, it looked as if the sun was trying to peek through.
It’s going to be a sunny day after all!
I want to try optimism this month…

I don’t remember last year’s cherry blossoms, somehow I missed them; I was either too busy to notice them or perhaps I didn’t look around often enough.
I don’t have a single picture of cherry blossoms from last year, that just mystifies me.

This year though, I can’t seem to get enough it them, I’ve had to hold back from going overboard with the pictures.
When in bloom, cherry blossoms are like pink fluffy clouds, and they line sidewalks like a floral carpet – so enchanting!
Cherry blossoms, like spring is all about renewal, I would have loved to have attended some festivals, but walking around in my neighbourhood was festive enough.

The flowers bloom for a very short time, mirroring how fleeting time is.
On my walk home at the start of this week, I couldn’t help but notice the flowers disappearing already.