tussie-mussie is a small bunch of flowers

Hello peaches and plums and strawberry preserves.
Today,   I'm woolgathering thoughts of Summer Gardens.   The bunching of posy flowerpot crowns, the smell of earth,  small hands decorated by the soil, and the blossom of life.  Give me a pot for growing flowers, and I'll kiss the ground.  

 Like any nature girl, I fawn for the flower blossom, but secretly, I've desired a garden of food.  A garden of herbs and spices and vegetables. I want to sow seedlings into buds, and buds into salads. 

 When I was a young girl,   my family had a chive garden. With freckles in hand, I would sneak into the backyard, and munch on chives. 

I watched my mother play vegetable grower,  and I wanted to repeat her stride.  The rake in messy hands, the worms chasing pavement, the tug and tow of the weed whacker.   As a seedling, I knew nothing of soil, or water, or flower growing.   All I knew was water meant breath for the garden.

One summer, my mother brought me sunflower seeds.    She dug a patch, beside wooden slats, and patted soil deep into earth's breast. Then she said, "Amy, this is for sun flower growing".    With baby soft hands, I planted sunflower seeds, and rolled my belly in the clay.

For everyday that summer, I talked to my sunflower seeds, until they turned into buds, I watered the buds, until they turned into vines, I watched the vines, until they turned into blossoms.  I married my sun flower, bathed her, fed her, and kept her pretty.

Yesterday, the heat of the sun lit where I laid. I tried to nap like a baby's belly beneath the golden coin, instead, I rested my body, and daydreamed of orange trees, and buckets of petals.
Too often, we buy tickets to dreamland through sleeping eyes.
((Slumber is not needed for dream bound boats.))
((The brain, and blood bring me to my woolgathering, with or without sleeping hours.))

 

To match my mood of Summer gardens, and open eyed dreaming, I wore flower shorts. They are two sizes too big, but that didn't keep me slow or fickle.     The enchantment of their high waist, delicate lace, and the rarity of the flower clusters brought my wallet to spill.

The spring air is chanting for womens summer shorts, and wedges of gold.
At last, we belong to the sun.

The language of today was short. This post was full of photographs, and little wordlings.  I'm awfully tied to the day. Studies, promises, and letter writing.  Tonight, my lips will pout on cups of flower gin, and the family will be festive to celebrate a birthday. Not my birthday, but a sweet one's birthday. Here's to life.


Sneaking kisses, and hugs x
((Happy birthday flower blossom, and Mothers day..))

what i wore

flower shorts- vintage $13
belt- mom's vintage $0
boots- sponsor atseoul.com

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