the bridges

Here's to the bridges. To the ones that towered above our frozen heads, skating the Red River at dusk. To that one we laugh about sometimes, coated in its acrylic profanities. To the ones we burned, crossed, and will cross. 

A late happy new year to you all.

Abbey

a change of scenery.

Some favourite moments from Camp Arnes in October. 

Not Pictured:

• Backpacks and garbage bags piled up to the ceiling on The Little Bus Who (barely) Could
• Boys jumping in the lake. In the minus twenty. At night. For the last cookie. 
• S'mores in the dining hall. 
• Girl talk in Room Seven.
• Evenings for courage and crying together.
• Dutch Blitz madness.

Summers at Arnes are summers from my childhood. This year we came at the root of winter. Old friends, new friends, and old friends who became new friends once more; they fuelled the weeks to come. I feel like when we 'just need to get away', it's not the people we need to get away from. Sometimes we just need a change of scenery to change our perspectives. 

--

Abbey

fernweh lookbook.

In October, I emailed Katie of BIRD AND WILLOW asking her to put together a Fernweh lookbook. These lookbooks are full of pretty pictures and words of inspiration, and I'm so grateful for both her willingness to create this and the opportunity to share these photos and a visual representation of what fernweh means with you. Thank you so much, Katie!

autumn scents

cc

the greenhouse

Today, we have a guest post from the lovely Lillian. You can read her blog here, with more of her great photography and writing.

bale climbing.

(photos by chloe)

It's just something we do on the way home from the city. As much as we love these outings, they get overwhelming and we usually end up holding hands at some point (forever small-town girls). Our to-do lists go a little something like this: this store, that store, coffee shop, hay bales. We drive back with scratches on our hands and straw in our shorts and it almost feels just like home.

abbey

ghosts from the past

Everything often doesn't turn out the way you expect it to. Everyone knows this in theory, but things still manage to always catch us by surprise. A few weeks ago, my mom found an old film camera that she got when she graduated from high school. It had a roll of film with about ten pictures taken. We had no idea how old they were, so I used up the rest of the film and then went to get it developed. Only a few of the pictures turned out, unfortunately, but it was kind of like seeing ghosts. There's my sister, back when she had bangs, and there's my old neighbor, who's probably as tall as me now. These must be a good four or five years old. It's so strange to see them turn up like that, and yet so interesting too. I love how photography can bring back memories like that.

Kendall

adventures in solitude.

35mm film from Colorado + Arizona.