i was here

thank you 2011.  you gave me lots of solid ground upon which to stand.

little rainbows everywhere

sometimes i fantasize about living in shades of white, grey, stone and wood.  but then i have a funky day and am cheered by color in nearly every corner of my home.

loot was had

it's true, i can go from spiritual to material (and grateful) in zero-point-four seconds.

i hope your christmas bounty was awesome too.

happy day!

{illuminé}

making space for the sacred on this christmas eve.

peace, love and light to you and yours,
lisa

christmas color friday: black

happy christmas weekend friends.  i hope you enjoy silent nights, campfires with s'mores, cuddling with those you love, releasing all shadows from 2011 and opening to all the wonders and beauty of 2012.

christmas color wednesday: gold

sacred heart cold and lonely outside.

christmas color tuesday: red

i really should wear more candy stripe.

(and technically, this does not count as a color week photo, i was super busy yesterday and unable to find some red.)

christmas color monday: silver

stars were spilled.  pretty much sums up my weekend:  clumsy and magical.

just what i needed

a gigantic mug of dirty chai.

and a little christmas color project:

my friend annie at clarity and grey (beautiful mom and photographer) is hosting a christmas color week next week.  please join us by celebrating and capturing the colors that are bringing you joy this holiday season.

monday :: silver and white
tuesday :: red
wednesday :: gold
thursday :: green
friday :: random (oh how i love a wildcard day!)

hey there friend

have a piece.

december views {№3}

welcome:

• winter sunshine
• eclipse magic
• weekend mischief
• paint and paste and other goo
• holiday cocktail taste tests
• rest and movement

december views {№2}

on and in the tree.

december views {№1}

my man.  mister anthropologie.

sweet december

be tender with me, month of mine.

every year you come around and i think about birthday dinners at shakey's pizza or happy steak and then homemade cake at the house. i can see the angelfood cake on the kitchen counter turned upside down on a coke bottle to loosen it from the pan.  i liked to lick the strawberry frosting off the candles after the singing, the wishing, the blowing.

also:
wood fires.
mexican cocoa.
unwrapping a homemade tamale.
the tink-tink-tink of the christmas lights knocking together as dad climbed the ladder to the roof.
the good-natured swearing under his breath.
i held on to the bottom of the ladder to make sure he was safe.
the pink-red camillias that bloomed in the backyard.
pomegranates split open on the tree, ready for devouring.
the whir of the heaters in the almond groves.
barbie and skipper stopping by the nativity to pay their respects.
paul anka on the turntable.

remember when we would pile in the car with thermoses of chocolate to drive around and look at the lights?  i always fell asleep in the backseat to the soft sound of mom and dad talking about their own childhoods. 

remember that time when i was twelve and wished i was invisible?  you conjured up fog for days, so thick that it devoured the valley and i safely disappeared from sight.

thank you for that.

just like me you have a raw edge and a bit of an unexpected bite, while at the same time your capacity for story, wishes, comfort and imagination feels limitless.

every year you come around with the best gifts.  these memories of you and i playing quietly together, dreaming and becoming the brightest among december girls.