This is my September to December motto. Instead of bracing myself for the days screeching by, hurtling relentlessly towards the end of the year, I'm going to do things slower. This seems like a very sensible approach and in conjunction with my stomach ulcer medication, I am sure will go a long way towards unwinding my knotted intestines. Yay.

Spring has officially sprung, and of course I'm loving every minute of it. I feel like I want to take a picture of every single shade of green on the trees, bottle the smell of first spring rains and cork the froggie chorus coming through my windows. 

Since only the first option is really available to me, I've been taking photos like crazy of all the spring things I love. Which, along with rooibos tea, also helps to uncoil my stomach. Yay again.


Spring flowers. Picked and presented by her with such love. 

Spring clothes. Tank tops and trinkets and bare arms, bare legs, bare feet.

Cat among the hydrangeas.


Flowers. Because spring is the silly season for that kind of thing.

Boat yoga. Who knew?



Bubbles. Sticky, drippy, messy but oh-so-pretty.

Book piles. New reads, re-reads - and Amelia Bedelia chapter books for Immy.

My Books I've Read journal. Which combines my nerdy bookworm and compulsive-list-making tendencies in the best possible way. I love the thought of looking back through my literary history - the books I choose to read are almost always a reflection of what's going on in my life. Last year would have been littered with gut-wrenching memoirs, various parenting books, with the odd light and fluffy chick-lit thrown in for sheer escapism. This year the list is looking much more rational. Although I still have kind of a thing for the parenting books...

Orchid buds. Photographic evidence that although I have a black thumb, I am surely some kind of orchid whisperer.

My friend Kristine celebrated her birthday with a small gathering of friends. Champagne, dappled light,  the BEST red velvet cupcakes -and one disgraced dog who stole all the chicken pies and cheese puffs off the table when no-one was looking. Grrrr.

Skipping. She's up to six in a row now. And slightly obsessed with reaching seven.

New candles. And also feeling like I belong to a secret club of candle-lovers, to whom the mysteries of things such as throw and melt pool and wick trim have been revealed. Dreaming of my next Jo Malone. Watch this space.

We're going on a road trip next weekend, for a three-night adventure in a new place. The plan is that things will turn out to be slightly less stressful and WAY MORE legal than breaking into a sculpture park on Heritage Day.

Happy spring.