soufside siren

love micro mobility vehicles

views from my afternoon crash out

meals i made for mother’s day

-sweet potato biscuits with blueberry basil syrup (unpictured sausage and spring veggie scramble)

-green goddess salad with pearl couscous, marinated chickpeas, pickled onions, and spring veg (all homemade bc duh)

-southern sweetness dry rub bbq wings

Grateful for the hands that continue to guide mine through the medicine of food.

gigi’s hands guide my biscuits always

granmere’s spirit leaps in rich salads

grandma and mommy live in the sweet specificity of a well down wing tip

I woke up this morning to rain.

finally. the sky rumbled and cracked and the drops dripped from my the overflowing gutters outside my window. should have cleaned those out before the rain came. no, use thinking about it now. anyway, it was raining.

growing up I used to love playing in the rain when I knew someone would pick me up and take me somewhere warm and dry afterwards. now that job is in my hands. so I get wet less because I haven't been fully prepared.

[Im already tired of writing which is kind of disappointing. I've fallen out of practice. Lost steam. Down stream we go. ]

Back to the biking. All of this was fluff around my original thought. this morning I made the decision to bike through the rain. Last winter, I couldn't do it because I didn't have a rain jacket. Got one for Christmas but there hasn't been a day I've had to make the choice since then. It hasn't been raining. Me and the trees have been waiting patiently to be soaked and to spread some of the medicine around. I've been waiting to dance in the rain on my bike. Cars make it feel like getting wet is the worst thing that can happen. Keep the windows closed don't let it in.

haul from dinner at yes please

-gather by dr. ashante m. reese

-southern heirloom seeds

-fig leaves for fig leaf syrup

-night cap tea

no seam. whole cloth

found from pam’s magic cauldron at yes please

i would have lost myself in the storm of you

i could have tended to your wounds while leaving my own bleeding

i could have asked you to love me

but i didn’t

you didn’t

we didn’t

the wind blew. you went with it

carrying your clouds and your rain with you

bitch you stressing

relax

“you are wanted. you are safe”

daisy fleabane

some type of bashful violet

spruce tips

southern dewberry

carolina allspice

cleaver

mrs. campbell’s hibiscus

uncle juanie’s mangoes

crown bay sea grape

the river tamarind that has moved into my grandmother’s yard to hold the land together

this is my story, this is my song

resting in eternal splendor

i now scrounge through your things

i find your whispers wrapped in envelopes

between pages of old albums

in curtains perfectly parted for tomorrows sunrise

i miss you more each day

i hold you close each night

you are home again