summer reflections
and some shadows
i’ve eaten all fruit no veg
setting sun on water [Stone Harbor, Avalon, Lake Ariel, Lake Carey, Griffin Pond Reservoir, Sandymount Sea, various lakes, streams & oceans - but all Atlantic except the Irish Sea]
I’m lucky to be the only in my family to have knee & knuckle freckles
pines on pool
butter on bagels is just as great as cream cheese
all of us in the rear-view
tail lights in a turnpike summer storm
my book + the road via my sunglasses
i’m a writer and creator by trade
pups in the back seat
touching grass is It
greens on blues
August is my favorite summer month
my bright blonde hair never really suited me
nor did 7 years of SPF-less tanning
the sun ricocheting off my golden eye patches
I have a gravitational pull to gingham
bangles can be in if you want them to be
trees
Sundays are for treasure hunting (at least in my brain)
you can buy from Zara and H&M if you wear it to The Death
seeing winter during a hot, hot summer via Parc’s cozy windows & warm, yellow lighting
blue sky on water
my twin below me in the Irish rain
rainbows
I have time
Clyde’s monster shape on the road during sun-setting walks
there exists no better snack than pretzels
spiders aren’t scary
the stained glass double adorning our Dublin Airbnb’s foyer
this is everyone’s first time living and no, they don’t have it figured out
I don’t need to buy crocs..
no plans is kind of fun
us on sand
I actually did need a black bag in my life
I can relax if I want to
5 umbrellas crowded in a downpour
the summer sun puzzle-piecing on my bathwater
and on the mosaic bird bath bowl a few houses down
it’s not that serious (it never was)
any light off my dewey skin
walks are OuchBalm for the soul
not all margaritas are created equal
gold isn’t my metal
I always knew I’d marry him
I shouldn’t wait
beach sun in my sand-buried plastic champagne glass
the sparkle of my ring creating little baby rainbows
luck is real and also a gift
fluorescent lighting in my post-dermaplaned+facialed-face
it’s fine to say i’m not a fan of a person
cheap swimsuits are often the best ones
tail-wags in the lake
Spironolactone works
pine needles breezing on my sci-fi pages
my workoutwear can survive an accidental dryer-throw
the kitchen light in a game of spoons
trees abreeze in water. something I can never look away from
I shouldn’t brush my hair when wet
running asphalt twins
expensive does not mean better
I actually do love the color (bright, fire, poppy) red
I need to call my grandma more
birthdays should always be a big deal
I hate big gowns and trains
I have more than I need
Fishing lines dangling lifelessly
Trees in my rose glass
those little bits of silvery-blue in ice cubes
working makes me happy
purple skies are my favorite. next to orange
I don’t like La Colombe draft latte cans
Lily on the big boat
the island on the lake
I love a list
my ring jelly cat on my windowsill
trains are FREAKING AWESOME and i’d love to commute
i’m successful and I should be proud
i’m kind and I should be prouder than I am of my success (I am)
studio light in all the glassware at Shoppe Object
Onyx’s black salt mocha was and will forever be the best coffee i’ve tasted
a boathouse painter’s tireless shadow
light through a fence or railing
Shake Place’s neon glow
dogs do bite
my summers will be spent laking
I only allow myself to write when I love myself
i’ll paint if you put it in front of me
turning off technology is therapeutic
the 16th Ward is my favorite NEPA restaurant
rude baristas are everywhere ?
I should eat corn on the cob more often
pedicures are a waste of money
cardinals aren’t just winter birds
I love nonchalance
I couldn’t have asked for a better second family
outside silence is my happy
magnesium daily may not do much for me
I won’t hyphenate my name
just because my Apple Watch is dead doesn’t mean my steps didn’t count
oil over lotion
string lights in my martini
there’s nothing better nor more dependable than a white tee
I miss biking
I don’t like the smell nor taste of passionfruit. just the name
NYC isn’t for me
i’m happiest when there’s a fiery smell in the air
there’s nothing like fiction
I like things casual
farmers markets will never not be great
hydrangeas’ pink through our front door windows
evergreens dancing on my sci-fi pages
good enough is most-times great
xox, abby



















Always my favorite posts