resplendent morning.

The day dawns crisp and cold. A slim blanket of snow covers the ground, and the sun shines gently through a wrap of misty fog.

 I blink awake at the sudden brightness, then snuggle deeper in my blanket and stare out at a glimmering winter world. Little spring buds drip beneath their cold dusting. 

Roo reclines on my bed, washing her silken fur. She looks up at me in alarm, startled by my camera's shutter. Perfect timing, cat. 

A waft of deliciousness arises from the kitchen below; crepes frying on a pan. 

The snow slowly melts as the clock ticks, and soon the first of March is no longer sheathed in white. 

Resplendent morning. How I love you. 

leap day thoughts & curls.

It's Leap Day today, in case you were oblivious. The 29th of February. It'll be four years before I post on this exact date...four years. That's a long time. Where will I be, on the 29th of February, four whole years from now?

I will be twenty years old. Will I still have this blog? Maybe there won't be such a thing as "blogs" in four years. Maybe something will happen and I'll be forced to shut it down. Maybe I'll still be here, posting, on the 29th of February...four years from now.

Will I still know the same people? Maybe some friendships will slowly diminish. Maybe I'll lose contact with people I consider my closest buddies. Maybe everything will be the same.

 Will I be single? Most likely. Let's not dwell on that one for too long. ;]

 Will I still be alive?

..There are so many "maybe's," "if's," "what's," and "I wonder's" in my future. I simply have no idea what the days and years ahead hold. Probably a good thing to leave it all up to God, yes? This verse, especially, reminds me of the importance of trust.

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."

[Jeremiah 29:11] 

On a different, slightly spontaneous and random subject--I've always loved curls. Especially the big, bouncy ones that you can twirl around your finger.

How many of you have naturally curly hair?

I'm not raising my hand with you. I have utterly, unmistakably, ironed-out straight hair. Lately, though, I've taken to curling it. We have one of those simple, medium-barreled curling irons, and it does the job, but I have to use a lot of spray to keep in the waves. Because--yep, you guessed it: my straight-as-sticks hair is extremely wimpy when it comes to curls. At best, my hair stays curly for four hours, providing I'm not outside or running around.

Pathetic, yes. I love curly hair. Oh well. Maybe by the next 29th of February I'll be the girl with the curls? That's even less likely than me being married by next Leap Day. o.O

...But then again, you just never know. Anything can happen in four years, right?

 ♥♥♥,
lucia

to inspire.

Inspiration is bliss. In-spuh-ray-shun. The very word, in its English form, makes me think of swirls and colors and sparkles and rainbow splatters of paint on the blank canvas of my mind. Or sun flares and glittering eyes dancing before a camera lens. Inspiration. It is to be embraced whole-heartedly, and not without courage.

I revel in the times when good ideas flow like water, and live in detestation of moments--or hours--or days--when my "blank canvas" remains insufferably blank. I want to inspire; to give to others what some have given me--the gift of a new thought.

It takes persistence to seek out hidden beauty, to perceive the world in color instead of black-and-white, to go beyond boundaries--to inspire and to be inspired.

I want to be the writer that can describe a grandmother's home like a magical realm; the photographer who can capture love in its original form; the artist who looks beyond the palette and into the soul of her subject; the speaker who knows both passion and artistry.

Inspiration is bliss. It can find us naturally, but most often we must seek it out--through books, through pictures, through an hour of deep thought--and determine what we will do with it.

What inspires you to inspire?

photo copyright 2012 lucia m. // please do not use without permission.