Category Archive: personal

six.

five was 365 days of blue and gold: it was dribbling a soccer ball around the kitchen and polishing rocks with your nana; it was building spaceships with legos, experimenting in the kitchen… Continue reading

idaho summer camp // 2014

there is nothing quite like a cabin on a lake in the thick of summer…the idaho mornings with coffee on the deck, the hot afternoons by the water, the evenings¬†with the skies on… Continue reading

la manzanilla, mexico.

fourteen days in mexico and even after two weeks of turquoise inner-tubes, whales in the bay, fish tacos with avocado, skin that smells like sunscreen, straw hats and hammocks, iguanas falling out of… Continue reading

twenty-thirteen.

in the year twenty-thirteen i: fell in love with sriracha, built 15 lego ships and drank 478 cups of black tea with milk and honey; held my girl’s hand and closed my eyes… Continue reading

yellowstone // wyoming

end of the summer road trip with a car full of sleeping bags and flashlights and maps. a car rack packed with an old tent and a box of camping dishes from the… Continue reading

SANDPOINT SUMMER CAMP // IDAHO

fourteen years ago, my parents bought a cabin on lake pend orielle. over the past decade they have made changes to the little house: they hung photographs on the walls and put in… Continue reading

INTO THE SKY.

Last month, Indy and I woke up at 4:45 am to see these balloons launch. It was a strange and wonderful morning, filled with the sounds of inflation and fire. When we got… Continue reading

LITTLE ORANGE SLICES.

They are my little orange slices, my cupcakes, my pumpkins; my jellybeans, my bunnies, my peanuts. They run around the house, the take apart the couch, they throw legos down the stairs, they… Continue reading

BOSNIA.

*Reen and I travelled to Bosnia. And this is our story, told by her: my friend who writes like the wind… 1992. The year I chose menswear for my first day of school… Continue reading

CROATIA.

Reen and I landed in Dubrovnik at noon on a Saturday, and when we stepped off the plane, there was a mob of screaming Croatians: they were chanting our names, wearing t-shirts with… Continue reading