an april hey

We loved the responses to the March desktop so much, that we decided to make it a monthly thing! Below is the April desktop for you to save to your computer. While March was a transitional month, April is truly the beginning of spring. Buds are blossoming, trees are growing, and grass is stretching awake from after a long winters sleep. Instead of creating a calendar of what to do daily, I thought it would be fun to have a spring list that focused on the organic and natural. Happy (almost) April!

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xo
Hannah

ballet shoes

This post is inspired in part by my own ballet experience. I danced for seven years, pointe for two and a half, and loved it. The thrill, the excitement, the hard work and dedication -- I thrived on the energy. I made the difficult decision to stop last December to pursue my photography, something that I knew was coming and I was confident about, but that was nonetheless bittersweet. The photo is from the 2011 Spring performance and inspired this short story. Enjoy! x - Hannah




"Dance for me," she whispered, and her heart jumped to her throat and echoed in the rom with her words. Bared open and free, she longed to run, but couldn't move, couldn't turn, could just whisper, whisper, whisper. "dance for me." it rolled throughout the empty room and hit the concrete walls and amplified, seeming to mock her, seeming to feel sorry for her, seeming to become louder and louder, all the while whispering. She could feel the touch of the words on her neck. "dance for me?"

She turned and her eyes were ringed with shock and sadness thicker than the bun on her head. "Why?" She asked, and it was more than just a question. It was more than just now, it was all the time, it was all that it had been, and it would continue to be.

"Why? Why now?" They both knew that what they were saying lay deeper than just a request and question. It was the bare bones struggle of years laid open and hearts broken and little girls with dreams who grew up to women warring with each other and their selves. It was the whisper of what had happened and the question of what to do. It was the echo of untold dances. Why. They didn't know, they didn't want to know, they did, the world was a mess and all they could do was ask why, each harboring secrets deeper than the sea and pain fiercer than a lion.

"Because," and the words tasted like chalk in her mouth, they tasted like ashes of all she had worked for. "I don't want to forget." Her voice was vulnerable and her eyes were slapped with regret and wishes and something like a longing so hard that it was consuming her. "please."

It was the please that did it. All at once, she could see her for who she was. Her hair coiled loosely in a bun, hanging as her eyes watched every move hungrily, daring to believe that she had once done them. Tears were what fell from her face and flowed in her blood and she was liquified with a sea of remorse. It all sounds so beautiful in theory, but in reality, it was like being burned up inside, smoke smothering her in waves and waves of memory.

And her heart struggled and her hand slipped and her mask fell and at once, for a moment, they were the two again, talking dreams and dancing in flowers, and laughing at all they could be. It was not this, no, not this, this dark world ringed with a hollowness too deep to touch. It was not this room, not this moment, not the chilling of the stone on bone, not the slow drop of water, leaking from the concrete walls. It was just a word and a wish and an "I'm-sorry" pretending to be a question.

Her heart answered yes. It said, I forgive you, even though she could not admit it. And the tear in her eye said she was sorry. But the dance was all she needed to say so. In one moment, she nodded her head, slowly, and twisted her hand and touched her cheek.

She cried in her chair as she danced and they were just two broken girls clinging for a lifeboat.

eating outdoors

Take the plates out to the patio. Bring the cutlery too, and the napkins, and the water glasses. We will gather barefoot over bowls of good food and we will let the sun warm our shoulders and we will talk. We will most definitely talk.
And our neighbours will be outdoors, the ones on either side and the ones next to them. I can hear them laughing, and I can hear them playing, and I can hear them dancing.
Let's eat outdoors tonight.

xx
Libby

double exposure photography

There is something wonderfully magic about double exposures. Scenes that may be ordinary on their own take on an almost dream-like quality, when put together. I am smitten by their whimsicality and delicateness. Typically achieved with a film camera, double exposures consist of taking two photos on the same piece of film. But in case you don't have access to a film camera, here's a quick tutorial to get the same effect digitally.

what you'll need

-a photo editing program such as photoshop or gimp
-two photos that you want to paste together. (it's helpful if they're the same size)

step one

Starting with a blank slate, open up the first photo in your program.

step two

Open up the second photo as an additional layer, then adjust the opacity to your liking.

step three

Save your new double exposure, and that's it! Once you get the hang of it, it literally takes thirty seconds...honestly, the hardest part for me is selecting the photos I want to use.



Have fun!

much love,
carlotta

the gloomy day guide

Putting up this post was a little strange for me--we're having unseasonably warm weather here right now, and gloomy days are the furthest thing from my mind. But Jana's plan below will definetley be bookmarked for our next stint of overcast and dull English days!

If you live in the Midwest, you can feel my pain with our lovely bipolar weather. One day, we'll have a few inches of snow, the next, you wake up to see the snow melted and it’s raining. I love rainy days; they're so refreshing and on those days I am most inspired. But on those days when the weather is indecisive and gloomy, it's hard not to mope around the house. No rain, no snow, just cloudy days.

Over the past few weeks with such weather, I've made a mental list to get through these days. Here are my 10 tips to gloomy days.

1) drink hot cocoa, tea, coffee. whichever hot drink is your forte. drink it from your favorite mug and maybe sneak a sweet snack.
2) read, read, read. I love reading books and I've found on these days, Frank Peretti is a favorite for me.
3) make a rainy-day play list. (I have yet to do this, but Spotify is calling my name)
4) phone calls and skype. Something that can surely brighten my day, is a call or skype with my best friend.
5) take pictures. I know the lighting may not be the best on these gloomy, cloudy days. but if you're anything like me, photographing puts me in a good mood.
6) watch a movie. last week, on a gloomy afternoon, I made my brothers watch Letters to Juliet with me. it was fantastic.
7) bake + cook. baking cookies, breads, or even helping mom fix super is a favorite for me on these days.
8) rearrange your room. I love organizing my closet or simply adding to my wall of pictures, clippings, and other souvenirs. looking at that wall in my room always brightens my day.
9) blogging. Write a new post and discover new bloggers. An idea I might have to steal soon, is having a page or list of your daily reads. It's a great way to give your blogging friends a few extra views and to help other bloggers discover your favorite blogs.
10) hang out with your family. nothing can brighten my day like a good laugh with my brothers.

xo,

Jana

mid-season style.

shirt : gifted (I believe from Kohls) // jeans : Kohls // shoes : Payless
We've been enjoying warm weather lately, and have even had a few days even into the seventies. It's been nice enough to even wear flats without my toes freezing. The other day, I pulled out my peep-toed wedges and my favorite pair of skinnies. When it's hot and sunny, I like to simplify -- less accessorizing and more single layered pieces. Since it was in the mid-fifties to sixties, it wasn't warm enough to justify shorts, so I grabbed my favorite jeans. Paired with a flowy (my own word, thankyouverymuch) floral top, I wiggled into my wedges to complete the look. What can I say? I'm itching for summer.

xx
Hannah

the boy with piano

One of our lovely readers, Abby, sent us a short piece of writing. This sweet story is actually a true event that happened to her a few weeks back. What a incredible thing to happen.

I flopped down on the couch, and let a sigh escape from my lips. I was at a fancy department store, and I was bored. My mom had brought me here because she was hunting for some new shoes to replace her current pair. I had wandered over to where the evening gowns were displayed, thinking to myself that it would be fun to pass the time by hunting for a prom dress. But no such luck. Everything available was fluffy, pink, and covered in sparkles. (Though I have nothing against sparkles and rosier hues, the whole glitter covered cotton candy look is not something that appeals to me.)

So there I was, sitting all alone in the middle of a store that simply oozed class and elegance. I mean, there was a grand piano not twenty feet away from me! I looked down at my simple sweater, jeans, and boots. I was way out of my league.

Uncomfortable, I sat up straight and looked around for something else to focus on. At that moment, three teenagers walked up, two boys and one girl. It looked like the younger boy (who appeared to be about 17,) was tagging along on his older brother’s date. The trio stopped in front of the glossy black piano, and the couple shoved the younger boy towards it. The boy glanced around to see if anyone was watching. His eyes landed on me, but he quickly looked away and took a seat at the piano bench.

He ran a hand through his tousled brown hair, and took a deep breath. Stroking the keys softly, he gently coaxed the first few notes of Adele’s “One and Only” from the instrument. It sounded soft and cautious – you could definitely tell he was nervous. His fingers faltered, and the music stopped abruptly. Blushing, he glanced up from the piano, and for one brief moment, our gazes held.

The older boy said something to him, and whatever spell had been cast was broken. He picked up where he had left off, his fingers flying. As the song progressed, he gained confidence, and the melody began to fill the air. I hummed along, enjoying my almost private concert.

Near the end of the song, my mom came to get me. By this time a small crowd had gathered, and people watched in awe as this very normal looking teenaged boy charmed a beautiful love song out of the piano. As the final gentle note ended, applause broke out. The boy seemed embarrassed by this, and stared at the piano keys, avoiding looking anyone in the eye. I pushed through the crowd, heading towards the exit. As I brushed by him, he looked up at me, a blush spreading across his cheeks to the tips of his ears. He half grinned at me, and I smiled back at him, feeling the color rush into my own face.

I stepped out into the cold March night, a light snow dusting my hair and eyelashes. As the doors swung shut, I heard the strains of “Turning Tables” echo throughout the department store. A smile danced on my lips, and I knew at that moment that I would never forget the boy with the piano.