Well, on over. Back over to Blogspot! The ban has been lifted (Turkey banned Blogspot a while ago), and since WordPress isn’t as user friendly, I’m moving back to my old blog site. I just made a post about our new turkey poults. So, check it out!
I never thought that I would enjoy making things. Though, I guess it was mostly because I always thought I stunk at that kind of thing. I didn’t know that all I needed was a little practice and a little time to improve!
The summer I turned 16, my aunt taught me how to crochet, and I crocheted maybe six inches of the stiffest, most crooked scarf you’ve ever seen in your life, then got discouraged/bored and put down my needle. Then, when we moved here two years later and I decided to take a year off from school and just chill, I discovered that I absolutely needed something to do. So, I found my trusty crochet needle and started making hats. Oh. So. Many. Hats. Soon, I had like, 30 hats and not enough people to give them to. The natural decision was to open an Etsy shop.
I quickly got sucked into the world of handmade, taught myself how to crochet a bunch of different stitches, how to knit, and how to spin yarn. There’s no turning back now, and I’ll never buy a sweater again. Why bother when I can make my own way cooler one?
I really feel that there’s magic behind handmade items. Think about it: someone actually took a fair amount of time and energy to create, for example, a sweater. And to take that time and energy, there has to be some kind of love behind it. I’d be willing to bet that that sweater just absorbed all sorts of good feelings throughout the creative process. And I’m certain that I enjoy wearing a sweater made with good vibes much more than wearing one made by some poor child in a faraway country. And I’m also certain that there’s a great feeling of satisfaction one feels when wearing something one made with one’s own hands.
What I’m trying to say is, “Hey, look. I finished a new sweater!” I’m really proud of this one; it fits so well and I made zero mistakes! That’s like, absolutely unheard of for my projects. After knitting this, I whipped up a scarf for an Etsy trade, and now, I’ve started the Lett Lopi Vest. The body color will be a split pea color, and the color work will be a cherry blossom pink and a black coffee brown. I’m a little nervous to be doing color work since it’s my first time, but I’m sure that, if I’m careful, it will come out well.
I feel the same way about vintage too. Older pieces are usually very well made–it’s the kind of craftsmanship we don’t usually see these days, unless we want to pay obscene amounts of green for our clothing. And can’t you just feel the years of experience woven between the threads? I wonder if any of the people who owned this before me fell in love while in this dress? Maybe a gal got married in it? I wonder where it’s been, all the different places it’s seen. Vintage has history. You see?
In a similar vein, instead of doing homework yesterday, I spent some time spinning yarn. I got my drop spindle in an Etsy trade about two years ago (oh, how I love trades). Actually, the batt I used came from a trade too. This time, to add some interest, I decided to ply it with some leftover yarn I had after I made a hat from it. I’m pretty proud of the result! All that’s left is to block and ball it! Gosh, I have tons and tons of handspun yarn, most that I made myself, but for some reason, I haven’t crocheted/knitted them into projects. That’s next on my never ending craft list!
Also instead of doing homework, I knitted on that new sweater and played with my sister’s bun, Angus. His little face just turns me to jelly with its adorableness. Forget gratuitous cat photos. How about gratuitous bunny shots? My cats are on my shit list anyway. Between pooping in the herb garden (Alice) and killing birds (Lupin. How the hell does that lump boogey fast enough to kill a house sparrow?), I’m ready to send them packing. Lily’s the only good one, so she can stay.
One more for the road.
In this throwaway culture of five-minute fads, we could all use a little more handmade love (AND BUNNIES) in our lives. What do you think?
Let’s start with a song:
I was pleasantly surprised to see that many of you bloggy lasses like Mumford & Sons. I’m quite fond of them myself! My cousin Justine introduced me to them about a year ago and I’ve been falling more and more in love as time passes.
I’ve been a busy bee! Gardening and clipping and knitting, oh my!
I’m super excited for my garden this year. This section is full of lettuce, chard, beet greens, and onions. I also threw a few sunflowers in there! They’re a new variety, and one I’ve never grown before–vanilla ice sunflowers. Supposedly, the flower is a very pale yellow. I’m not sure I’ll like them, but maybe if the bees cross-pollinate them with the rust variety I usually grow I’ll get a pretty hybrid. There are also some poppies my neighbor gave me.
In those raised beds you see, I planted calendula, violets, and echinacea. I decided against planting those herbs I mentioned earlier. I already have more mint than I know what to do with, and mugwort is a big allergen producer. By the time it flowers, most of the local pollen will have already dispersed and I don’t want extra pollen floating around. Bad allergies, you know?
This is the big garden! At the beginning of May, I’ll plant tomatoes, eggplant, peppers, chard, watermelon, squash, and cucumbers here. A little later, I’ll do some pumpkins and carrots.
My seeds! This is the first and second plantings of tomatoes and peppers, the first sowing of eggplants, and watermelon. I’m going to plant the squash, cucumber, and more watermelon directly. In that big pot all the way at the top, we’re growing ginger. I uncovered it yesterday and was delighted to see that it was budding! We use ginger a lot in cooking because it’s good for my stomach. I have problems with acid and have to be very careful about what I eat. No meat (and if I do, just a tiny bit), no harsh veggies like raw onion, little or no cheese, easy on the vinegar and lemon. And coffee? Oh, boy. Only on my best days I can partake with no ill effect. Sometimes, if I’m really having pain, I have to lay off tomatoes. That’s a real drag…
These guys are chilling in the little garden. We have a pretty big aloe plant, and it made tons of babies this year. I dug these two wee ones out just to see if they’d live away from momma and if momma could actually take me clumsily hacking at her babies.
One of the things I like about this place is the abundance of succulents and how easy they are to root. I plucked these fellas from the top of the mountain and stuck them here to see if they’d grow. It’s only been three months and they’re more than tripled in size! The plants behind and to the right of them were also grown from pieces I broke off main plants. And I actually didn’t put that green stuff in that pot, just the reds. The green magically grew there, but I’m happy because it gets totally gorgeous flowers.
I have no idea what these flowers are. My grandmother calls them “hanim eli,” which is a honeysuckle, but they don’t look like the honeysuckle I know… In any event, they smell absolutely wonderful.
I also trimmed the lavender down in the front of the house. It mightn’t be the time for pruning things back, but I really need lavender for oil. I also went up into the forest and picked some to supplement what my plant had to offer.
My bedroom has very good airflow, so they’re hanging from the ceiling in there.
The ubiquitous gratuitous cat photo. Lupin’s just chilling in the shade. He’s such a sweet boy. Never makes any trouble like Alice. She, by the way, has made a career of taking poops in the herb garden and climbing up the screens… terrible creature.
The chicks are very happy! Tosun and Matt seem to have smoothed things over, and peace has been restored in the flock. This is Little Boy Blue walking through the tall grass. Those plants with the yellow flowers, by the way, are edible before the buds pop. After that, they become unbearable bitter.
This one’s for you, Milla! The yard is full of dandelions. There are so many that they obscure most of the green beneath. 
Obviously, the girls are very happy. This is two days worth of eggs; I forgot to collect the previous day’s.
And why shouldn’t they be when they have a gorgeous manure pile to take dirt baths in?
The manure pile is beneath this tree. It might be a crab apple tree. Or maybe one of the same kind of wild pear at the top of the yard. I’m terrible with this stuff!
Aaand, here’s what I wore! A Gunne gift from my aunt. Cool, huh? It fits perfectly and I love the color of the corduroy bodice. It’s a slate gray! The style is also unlike my others. Speaking of Gunnes, there were several in the package my aunt sent, so more pretty dresses to come 
My sister loves playing with my hair, and has been experimenting with different braids every day. This fishbone was is one of my favorites.
Wishing you all lots of light and spring flowers!
P.S. Please excuse the messy format. Wordpress is being an asshat today and I can’t figure out how to get anything to look straight.
Wow, been a wee while since I last posted, eh? Things have been, in a word, strange. I was feeling unbalanced; I had trouble eating, trouble sleeping, trouble concentrating. But I have a great feeling that this strangeness has passed.
So it is FOR REAL beautiful here. I know I’ve said it before, but this is truly the best time of year for this area. Occasionally, the wind will blow just right, stirring the leaves just so, and the combined sound and smell take me back to New York. It never lasts long, but I treasure those moments.
Unfortunately, this spring seems to have brought some craziness to our chicken world. We have three roosters- Tosun, Martin Brody, and Matt Hooper. Tosun is Martin’s and Matt’s father, and the three have peacefully coexisted since the birth of the two sons. Yesterday, while I was working in the garden, I heard a ruckus coming from behind the house; the hens were clucking in agitation and I thought that maybe a fox was around. So, I ran around back to check and was simultaneously relieved and horrified. There was no fox, but Tosun and Matt were fighting like I’ve never seen them fight before. They’d occasionally sparred, but Matt always backed down. This time, they were absolutely vicious; Matt was bleeding from his legs, Tosun from his face. I separated them two times, and finally, they stopped fighting.
Tosun
This morning, I let them out of their coop and they began fighting again! Tosun was quickly bested and I was sure that Matt would keep going until he killed him. I had to lock Matt up in one of the chicken houses to give Tosun a break. The poor older rooster is covered in blood and one of his eyes is swollen shut. I really don’t know what to do. We briefly considered killing Matt to eat, but that just doesn’t seem right. The other option is to find someone who needs a rooster. Only problem is, roosters around here are a dime-a-dozen. Ahhhh, I really don’t know what to do. Looks like we may be having chicken soup before long 
Poor Warrior
In a different vein, I wanted to share some more wild tasties with you. There’s this plant here that looks downright mean. Well, there are a lot of local plants that look downright mean, but this one, called acanthus, has a redeeming quality.
It’s oh-so-tasty. I’d never seen this plant before we came here, but am almost 100% certain we didn’t have it in New York. Anyway, how do you pick and prepare this little guy? Well, first you dig or cut them out of the ground right at the base of the plant. Then, starting from the bottom of the stem, you put your index finger and thumb on either side of the stem and slide them upwards, stripping the shoot of its prickly thorns. The hands on the left are those of my neighbor, and the ones on the right belong to my grandma.
I’m not so good at stripping the pricklies away, so I just use my trusty hunting knife to clean the roots that sometimes pop out of the ground too. I’m also in charge of the collection bag Speaking of knives, my dad gave me mine. I’m always up in the forest picking things and was in dire need of a foldable knife. This one’s super fierce and just as dangerous, so I’m very cautious when using it.
That’s pretty much it! After that, you just have to wash the plants and then use them however you want. Today, I washed and cut the plants, making bite-size pieces. I ended up using them in a kind of chicken soup (not made from Matt!); first, I sauteed garlic and onions in olive oil (from local trees!) with some salt and pepper. Then, I threw in some chicken, sauteed it a wee, then added water and lemon. I then added the acanthus and let it cook until the shoot pieces were tender. Then, to thicken it, I took a little corn starch, mixed it up in a little water, then added it to the soup. It’s a very simple, not very specific recipe.
Here’s what I wore. Kind of an awkward picture, but I wasn’t feeling well that day. Actually, my allergies have been killing me for the last few days; the pine trees are releasing great billows of pollen. It really gets to me. These pics were taken over the course of two days, so here’s what I wore today.
That’s it for now! Garden post soon to come!
Happy Spring, lovelies ♥
No pics in this one, folks. Just text. But I hope it compensates for the lack of visuals 
I’ve had to write an essay of place for my Creative Nonfiction class. Naturally, I chose the place that makes my heart beat– the place I grew up, my home. Now, I’ve never written an essay like this. Initially, I was hoping to paint a portrait of this place and then kind of link it with me and why it’s the place that appears in my dreams and in my writing. I wanted to describe the place that formed my imagination. Now, this is rough, but I wanted to share it with you in the hopes that you’ll read it and see that it identifies with some inner truth. Maybe make you remember the place that formed your imagination.
I hope you don’t find the writing too flowery; I’m trying to get into the habit of using metaphor more (thank you, Milla, my dear!) and really laid it on heavy here. I think my brain had a metaphor explosion. Not literally, of course. A metaphoric metaphor explosion? Whatever. I blame my dopiness and lack of eloquence on mercury in retrograde (Damn, does that deserve its own post). I hope this temporary stupidity doesn’t last the duration of the cycle because I. am. done. I didn’t even proof this. That’s how done I am, haha!
“Inner Landscapes” (tentative title- not sure I like it)
Winter: Mother Earth was shrouded in her heavy winter mantle. The eighteen acres of forest were silent and stark, all black bark and bare bones, the landscape stripped of adornment. Winter was a time of vicious contrast, with jet branches slashing an iron sky. Winter was a time of unpretentious exposure, trees stretching their naked limbs toward the heavens, yet earnestly bowing under the weight of velvet ice. Winter was a time of hushed tones, the only sounds the hiss of snowfall or the creak of cold limbs deep in slumber. Sometimes, the wind’s murmuring would rattle boughs, crack their coating of glass. I walked those woods in silence, save for the rubbery crunch of my footfall, and let the quiet fill me up. Bundled in my snow clothes, I felt little of the wind’s raw, whispering voice. Only my nose and cheeks suffered, and roses bloomed over my exposed flesh. With my green nylon and florid face, I resembled a large poppy bobbing through the trees—a piece of superfluous springtime punctuating the monochrome.
Spring: Gradually, the pale winter sun gained strength, using his radiant powers to cajole Winter. Ice queen that she was, she balked, but soon surrendered to his gleaming smile and warm whispers. Winter loosened her iron grip, relinquished just a fraction of control, and was swept off her feet.
The trees’ slow pulses quickened, their sap stirred to liquid life by the new warmth. With a groan and a stretch, they shrugged off their velvet cloaks and, under the loving gaze of the sun, their thoughts of life manifested in the form of tiny buds. In the midst of it all, that whispering wind abandoned its cutting words for kinder ones, and its breath whisked into the air a smell of crystal verdancy—greenery on ice.
With none of their earlier sluggishness, the trees gave all their energy to the cultivation of these buds and in no time at all, they unfurled to wave in the breeze. Under the shade of this new foliage thrived new violets—exhibits of Mother Nature’s jubilant humor.
In these days of spring, I watched a flock of turkeys swagger through the grass, chicks scuttling tirelessly behind. Sometimes, in the early evening, a slender-legged doe would steal out of maples. Then—AH, a sound! She halted. Her liquid eyes scanned the landscape. Her nose twitched. Moments later, when she was certain all was well, her tail began to flick contentedly from side to side and she dipped her supple neck to graze. I held my breath and waited for the true treasure to appear. A few steps behind the doe, a tiny fawn sidled out of the shadow, its mahogany coat mottled with white flecks and the stain of sunlight.
I myself felt the stirring of my lifeblood. Joy would bubble so irrepressibly in my chest at the sensory delights of spring that I couldn’t help but grin and laugh like a loon. I could feel my limbs coming alive too, feel the flutter of as new wings of inspiration took flight in my mind. Nothing suited me better than trekking beneath those stretching trees, gamboling beneath their cavernous limbs.
Summer: The sun gained intensity with the lengthening days, drawing out the shy clematis, the fluid morning glory. With the flowers came droves of butterflies—monarchs, painted ladies, tiger swallowtails—and they dripped off blooms lavishly. Summer was the time for Mother Nature to adorn herself with her most vibrant jewelry, mixing colors in a joyously psychedelic fashion.
It was also a volatile time. Summer storms blew in abruptly, though not without warning. As a prelude, the wind roiled, sweeping the leaves in such a way as to expose their pale underside—an ominous sight indeed. Corpulent clouds scudded across the sky as if alarmed by the sonorous thunder rolling in their wake. Then the heavens opened and all was obscured by walls of rain, liquid and opaque as mercury. I shouted in joy and leaped into the barrage, dancing and spinning like a mad dervish. In just a few heartbeats, I was soaked through. But I didn’t care. The rain cleansed me, baptized me in my entrance to the guild of life. I became a sister to the trees, the flowers, the animals, and I was whole.
Autumn: Summer was fleeting. The Sun soon lost his enthusiasm, became distracted, and waned. The days cooled and shortened, and the trees’ pulses slackened to match the slowing, resonant beat of the earth.
Nights brought raw temperatures and the air nipped at the verdancy mercilessly. Leaves began to lose their chlorophyll and die, and the trees were suddenly aflame. With the waning sun, they tried to compensate with colors that burned hot, hot, hot, until they could take it no more and fell down dead.
I breathed the crisp air, heady with decay, and pulled my coat closer. The wind scoured the earth, ushering crackling leaves into herds—banks that foreshadowed the snow drifts to come. I walked with my head tipped back, tracking the flight paths of falling leaves, and doggedly attempted to snatch some from the air.
With the earth, I could feel my body slowing, feel it preparing for the cold months ahead. But, I would not hibernate like a bear. Instead, I would trek the snowy forest once more, specter-like in my silence. That is, until I would tip my head back to howl into the bitter air. The coyotes would offer their answer in devilish yips and yowls, and I would be home.
I want to start by saying a great big, “Thank you,” to you beautiful girls for your comments on my last post. After I posted, I felt that I’d been selfish; there are so many others in this big old world with problems far greater than mine, but I’d just blathered on about my own. I might as well have gotten out my tiny violin and played a sad, sad song.
But instead of saying so, you ladies left some wonderful words of encouragement and wisdom, and for that, I am so grateful. The truth is, things sometimes get so crazy in my little old brain that I just need to spill it somewhere. And I always get a little weird around the full moon, so that, along with that stupid job (which I decided NOT to take, by the way. The thought made me so unhappy, it was crazy), and a few other scary, but possibly good things just had me feeling like I was going to bust out of my skin. Or melt. Both?
Anyway, I wanted to share with you all the beautiful day I spent in the sun, down by the sea.
I didn’t grow up by the sea. Far from it, actually, and I only ever saw the Atlantic Ocean a handful of times; we aren’t big travelers in this family. Coming here to live so close to the Aegean Sea was, in a word, amazing. I know I said I don’t like this place all that much, but one factor I DO ardently appreciate is the water. It makes me feel like I live in a great, wide world. The air feels different, smells different. And going down to the sea, I feel like some strange creature just emerged from the mossy pines to see this expansive blue for the very first time. I feel like an alien as I walk over soft stones, wobbling a little, and breathe the salt air. The sun burns my skin, the salt burns my skin. It’s not my world, but I love the foreignness of it all.
Sea birds fascinate me, too. Of course, I was familiar with gulls, but I’ve seen pelicans, cormorants, and a wealth of other brand new birds. Seeing things I’ve never seen before is such a novelty. It makes me feel like a child again.
I like when the tide’s out- it’s the best time for finding tiny treasures, living and otherwise. I saw sea snails that could fit on a pencil eraser and so were much too small for my lens to nicely capture. Rather than stick my hands in there though, I just crouch and observe. Sometimes my curiosity will be so piqued that I do have to touch, but most of the time, I just like to watch.
The smell was quite special that day. Of course, the wind stirred up the sea’s pungent salt smell, but there was something else. All along the shore grew wild thyme and bushes of these pieces of earth-bound sun. They smelled decidedly sweet, and combined with the thyme and sea, produced a potent scent.
The rocks are something that deserve attention as well. The exposed earth all along the shore is layer upon layer of sedimentary rock, each new color representing a new time period. They are as curved as the waves that slap at their toes, and moved, no doubt, by the seismic activity this place experiences. The close-ups of boulders further out are pretty cool too
I wished I could have brought Enya with me. She loves the water and it would have been so much fun letting her splash in the surf. We had Tiffany, but she wasn’t too into jumping around the rocks like my girl would have been. And forget even setting paw in the water.
But, as nice as it was to spend some time on the shore, I’m always happy to get home to the forest. Though not without some treasures.
While I was wobbling along, three stones caught my fancy. The white and black were next to each other and their colors seemed so bright and intense, I had to pick them up. And then the true treasure, that BLUE one caught my eye. I had never seen a blue stone like that before and it’s my favorite from the day. (The amethyst was a gift from my late grandmother, and the box all four are on was her jewelry box).
Spending the day at the shore always makes me appreciate my life on dry land even more. I be a land lover at heart.
Also, I just wanted to mention that my sister, Hayle, has opened an Etsy shop of her own! She’s such a cool kid, so check her out!
Wishing you all a warm breeze and plenty of sunshine!
I’ve been in a funk the last week or so. I’ve gotten hardly any work done, I can’t concentrate, I don’t care. Gardening wise, things are at a stand still, though I feel like such shit today I’m thinking of going out and getting my pickax to hack at the earth. It might help.
See, I’m frustrated and unhappy. I’ve lived in this country for almost three years and I have only found marginal peace and happiness. Relocating was a rough adjustment and I’ve felt that I’m missing something critical by living here.
Don’t get me wrong- I’ve grown and matured so much through my life here. I’ve developed new passions that I never imagined would even pique my interest. I’ve learned a new language. I’ve become less shy, more confident.
But at the same time, I’ve felt like I’m waiting for something. Waiting for what though? For some fool reason, I’ve got in my head that this is not where I’m staying. I mean, other than liking my natural environment, I don’t like living here. And hell, I only like it during this time of year, when the ground actually has grass, when the flowers are blooming, and when I can pick wild stuff to eat. It’s a time for baby birds and baby plants; it’s a time I feel most inspired, and my ideas are akin fresh little buds on tree branches. I feel hopeful.
Then the summer comes and I just about die. It’s hot and dry, prickly and monochromatic. It’s worse than the long New York winters I weathered while I was in the US. Unsurprisingly, my mood mirrors this; summer is my worst time of year for staying positive.
More than that, I’ve felt that I’ve had to so many things I didn’t/don’t want to do. For example: yesterday, I had to meet with this woman who owns a local tutoring place for kids. A friend of my dad apparently told her about me, so she wanted to meet with me to be an English tutor. I wasn’t (and am still not) into teaching kids this language because, honestly, I could give a rat’s pajamas whether or not these kids learn English. But I kind of shrugged and said I’d meet with her. It couldn’t hurt, after all, and I’d always have the opportunity to tell her I’m not interested. Right? Well, no.
I get in there and she automatically assumes that I want to work for her. Where did she get that idea? I couldn’t get a word in edgewise during our “conversation,” and ended up walking out feeling overwhelmed and more than a little panicky. I had a little freak out on the way home and am still feeling really off-balance today. This interview brought all my feelings of inadequacy, all my confidence issues roaring to the surface and I ended up totally losing it and crying long and hard.
Despite this, the face I brought to the interview was one of warmth, of confidence and the woman is hell bent on getting me to work for her. I don’t want to but I’ll try it out, just to show myself that I. Can. Do. It.
And then there’s the issue of love. It’s a big issue, actually. I haven’t been interested in anyone here, though there is this guy who’s been doggedly pursuing me for a while. He’s absolutely not what I’m looking for in a mate, and if he was a little… more perceptive, he’d see that he should just forget about me. So, here’s me feeling absolutely lonely for almost three years with no end in sight; I haven’t met anyone, after all.
With all this unhappiness, I should do something about it, right? I remember something the darling Milla said. It went along the lines of, if you’re not happy with where you live, change it. If I’m not happy with my situation, change it. But what if the changes I’m looking for scare me?
Things are feeling so so messy in my life at the moment. But I read this by the Organic Sister while I was waiting for this last picture to load and wanted to faint with how beautifully synchronous life can be. Her first two posts kind of blew my mind. I’m at a crossroads, I think. I’m ready for change and it’s freaking me out.
This is a face I rarely show to people. This face of self doubt, fear, and weakness… it’s one I try to hide from most othes because it’s unattractive and totally at odds with the self I want to project. But it’s also totally human and natural and a part of life. I guess I just have to be brave and roll with it…?
To eat crocuses. Yes, crocuses! These lovely flowers grow in droves in the yard, and one of my favorite things to do is to go and dig some up for a tasty meal.
The crocus is an interesting plant. Saffron is actually harvested from the stamens of these lovelies. But be careful if you’re doing this yourself. The heads of certain crocus breeds are toxic! Personally, I’m not into harvesting my own saffron. I’m unsure of what variety this is and really don’t feel like accidentally poisoning myself! Thus, we only eat the bulbs and some of the green stem.
Though, if you’d like to harvest your own, it’s super easy and affordable.
So, how do you collect your plants? First, you find some crocuses.
Next, you dig them up, taking care not to sever the tops from the roots.
See?
BOOM- you have a meal. I was thinking though, I seriously need a basket; a plastic bag isn’t really a sustainable option, you know?Cooking wise, you can do pretty much whatever you want with these bad boys. Cook them into rice, make a saute, deep fry them (a Turkish favorite)- there are so many possibilities!
And, this is what I wore on that lovely day. It’s been incredibly warm, so I was totally comfortably in this. No sweater or anything.
I promise, a post with more substance is in the works. Soon, soon
I used to blog on Blogspot, but fairly recently, Turkey blocked both Blogger and Blogspot. Thus, I was lost in bloggy limbo. Thank goodness for this site, because I really missed writing!
I need some time to gather my thoughts, but here’s an outfit I wore a few days ago. One of my goals for the new year was to limit what I buy. I was never out of control, but I just wanted to make very few, albeit thoughtful purchases. Making an effort to break away from consumeristic tendencies, you know?
I already make a lot of my own garb (knitting), and I love vintage clothing. Enter this dress. I first saw it back in December and was immediately taken with it. But rather than purchase it right away, I waited a few months. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore; it was just too perfect and too good a price. I bought it.
I’m so glad I did! It’s a Gunne, I think, though I can’t be sure as it doesn’t have a tag. It certainly has a special place in my closet
Okay, my battery’s about to die, so I’m off. Posts about gardens and wild asparagus and a plant called sakarca to come!
