craving minimal in winter

It's winter now, and I'm craving things in my life to be neutral and calm and minimal. 

I'm liking my house clean and folded and stacked. The counter is mirror-clean and the dishes are always washed before bed these days. 

I make things and I work for myself, so my days march out ahead to the beat of the freelance metronome, without kids to yet interrupt my pace.

Busy, yes. But. If there is no time, I can make time. 

These winter days feel decadent yet earned. It feels like there is probably some really rad stuff right around the corner. It feels GOOD.

I shot these birds outside the NYC courthouse in January, while shooting a beautiful couple's wedding.


A nice amount (a perfect amount, in fact!) of time has passed while I was gone.

It's been long enough that American currency is weird-looking. Long enough that the street traffic seems out of place without the roar of a thousand motos. Long enough that I still have the bright-eyed half smile on my face.

My smile threatens to erupt, at the slightest prompt. I'm still looking at everything with a traveler's eager, observant affinity, where every corner storefront merits a second look, where every interesting face passed is noted and memorized with excited inner appreciation.

I'm still in the habit of being rather disconnected. I'm only checking my phone every couple of hours. I expect that bit of loveliness will be the first habit to evaporate, but I hope it doesn't happen today.

I awoke at 3 am today, full of thoughts and done with sleep, despite my valiant efforts at avoiding jet lag. I awoke and I watched this video, of kayaking on Halong Bay, Vietnam, and was tickled at the memory. Reliving this trip is going to be a riot, without a trace of the sad longing that remembering can sometimes bring.

One more watch, and then I'll get back to sleep. Really.