My dear friend, Slim, and I took a somewhat impromptu road trip to San Francisco last weekend. There’s just something about this foggy city by the bay that always feels like home. I went to visit one of my best friends from college and her husband, who I haven’t seen since their wedding two years ago. Major feels. I was greeted by a warm hug, high-pitched squeals (me), restaurant-quality-homemade avocado toast, a tall glass of champagne, and the most beautiful view of the Bay Bridge from their 14th floor apartment.
To be able to so easily drive to one of my favorite cities for the weekend.. for delicious food with friends, both old and new.. for an entire hour of dreamy wandering through rows of brightly colored, bay window apartments one sleepy Sunday morning.. for precious friendships 10 years strong.. for all these things and more, I am endlessly grateful.
To be where little cable cars climb halfway to the stars…
TOP | rag and bone
PANTS | everlane
SHOES | m gemi
PHOTOGRAPHY by Stephanie Lim
It’s been a (relatively) long season of rain. But when the storm ceases and the clouds part, we – so generally accustomed to dust – are rewarded with the most gloriously vibrant display of life. From desert to superbloom, what difference a season of rain can make.
You know where I’m going with this, don’t you?
In life and circumstances, as in nature, sometimes a little bit of rain is necessary for the growth and beauty on the other side.
So take heart, friend, and let the rain fall for a season. There’s new life to be had on the other side.
For the Lord comforts Zion;
he comforts all her waste places
and makes her wilderness like Eden,
her desert like the garden of the Lord;
joy and gladness will be found in her,
thanksgiving and the voice of song.
PHOTOGRAPHY by Kassia Phoy
A slow and sleepy morning. Waking to the sound of cars passing on wet pavement. Then, the not-so-subtle progression to a sudden downpour – cocooning me in sound and presenting the feeling of being so very alone, but in the very best way.
Fresh flowers in winter white. Candles as my only light – the scent recalling cooler nights amidst mountains and dirt and tobacco and trees.
Wrapped in faux-fur blankets, wool socks, and flannel worn with wear. A kitty’s gentle snoring at my side. Miles. Ella. & Coltrane. The lilting snare and crooning trumpet stilling seconds, nine luxurious minutes at a time.
Rainy, romantic days like today. And the ability to soak up the beauty in every dripping moment.