Inspiration.

It’s been hitting me, hard, but only in the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere, and in the middle of having nothing with which to write down a thing.

I go from wanting to say nothing to spilling my guts in about a nanosecond. And I have yet, since our move this summer, to find a good, solid, danceable rhythm to move to…feels sort of like spending energy in the wrong amounts at the less right times.

Bah.

Even in the midst of unrest, though, I do find tasty morsels of peace and contentment.

I love the quiet light of fall and the riotous colors amidst the super faded ones. The light and color bring warmth and vintage-like haze that looks as though you’re moving through a dream, and then WOAH crazy sunrises and sunsets. The boys and I race to the windows in the mornings to see what treats the sky will hold – sometimes hot air balloons, sometimes explosions of pink and orange and moody clouds before everything dreamy burns away and leaves that crisp cool morning air to tickle our noses and make us run fast to the car and turn on the seat warmers.

We seem to start our days tucked into sweaters and end them chasing the ice cream truck to buy blue frozen something-or-others with sticky gumball eyes that we chase melting trails of down our fingers and wrists.