Indulge the Birdy's penchant for photos lately -- the springtime blooms and more hospitable weather is inspiring to my shutterbug tendencies.  I know it sounds silly, but I consider the camellia plants in the backyard my Miracle Plants. I put them in YEARS ago, and they have been overdue to bloom, but thankfully over the last couple of years, we've been getting a steady and growing number of flowers. I can see the bright blooms from our bedroom window, it's so very nice, and I like to celebrate that. 

Indulge me yet again in another dreamy seasonal post, if you will. I took these photos in a friend's yard a little while back, admiring the change of light and color as the sun was setting. I love that when autumn arrives, you feel it in the air.

I'm falling in love with the Fine Art of Doing Nothing. I wouldn't call it being lazy -- you're still doing things like having backyard barbecues, sitting around with a cocktail in hand on a hot day, and just taking a moment to soak in the Nothingness. And it can be in your yard or someone else's, as we've been yard-hopping all summer at friends' houses.

Have you ever measured the power of a gesture as simple as telling someone you're thinking of them? It's surprisingly large, for something that seems so small. I'm dedicating this post to the loved ones out there who have had a rough time of things this year; there's been a surprisingly sad amount of loss in such a short time. And I dedicate this post to the loved ones who have been unwavering in their little check-in's on us, to make sure we're not going crazy, dealing with a sick dog. I find myself saying, "I'm thinking of you," and "My heart is with you," to so many people, and I mean it with every fiber of my being, because they've given the same encouragement to me. With these small gestures, I swear, it's the thing that keeps our heads up and moving forward every day. 

I encourage everyone to be generous with these little gestures of encouragement to your loved ones. Tell them you're thinking of them. Remind them they're not alone. Even just a little text message saying you're thinking of them can be an incredible bright spot in their day.
  Jaunty Fine Print: Photography by Denise Sakaki

Hear that sound? I think that was perhaps the door closing as Winter finally left the room.  I may have just jinxed us for a springtime freeze or a freak snowstorm to roll in, during the middle of April, but as I've been noticing on the rare sunny walks, it truly feels like Spring is, at last, in bloom.  

How goes the New Year so far? After only a week or two, it's hard to tell, but I'm sure we're all trying to keep our resolutions and promises for the year ahead. And if we falter on those commitments? Well, I'll be the first one to say, not to worry, because it's better to have several fresh starts, not just one.

greenful

I'm creating a new word. It's called Greenful. It's the feeling you get, returning to the land of Evergreen after being in a super-hot, arid desert for a few days, hopping from one temperature controlled building to another, to escape the 100+ degree temperature. I just got back from a short but fun trip to Nevada, meeting up with family and seeing one of my very best friends for a few days. And while I will miss seeing all those lovely familiar faces, I do not miss the desert heat, so Greenful I am.

Fall is most certainly in the air. I've been enjoying the dramatic sunsets and most recently, an autumn-blessed drive through Washington, revealing the fall hues decorating the mountains. The poet Robert Frost has been on my mind, mostly due to his being mentioned several times over a weekend of Trivia Pursuit cards being read over some Oktoberfest beers. Who says alcohol and intellectualism can't mix? I took it to be a sign, that his wise words need to be rekindled and mulled over, as they rightfully should. 

I choose to highlight one his more well-known poems, The Road Not Taken, which isn't so much about seasons, but a sense of reflection over choices made and chances missed. Autumn can be a reflective time, we're realizing the year is at an end, and it's a season that's all about change. And change is most certainly in the air. So sit back with dramatic sunset, think about his words, and consider what lesser-traveled roads you have dared to venture upon in life, and perhaps consider more lesser-traveled roads ahead. 

The Road Not Taken -  by Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I marked the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Jaunty Fine Print: photography by Denise Sakaki, poem by Robert Frost

It's Spring! It's Spring! Get your allergy medication prescriptions filled! Of course that's not the only reason spring is worthy of such J'adore and extra tissues. It's a time of rebirth, renewal, when the winter-swept branches, bare and spindly, suddenly come to life with little buds that unfurl into leaves. Flowers start to bloom. There's color in the world.

I know this is supposedly a blog about style and fashion, but it's not only about what we wear, we need to fully engage our environment and absorb inspiration whenever we can. Style can be about the way we perceive the world, a lens we gaze through to take in the concepts that feel most relevant. On a rare sunny day in mid-spring, I took a walk through our own backyard, just to take stock of what was in bloom and see how the plants were doing. For all the world's aches, pains and itches it just can't scratch, Nature doesn't let it get to her. Maybe it's harder to grow life anew, with more pollutants in the air, more asphalt to hide the soil, but it finds a way, however celebrated or anonymous. One of my favorite poets, Emily Dickenson describes spring best:  

A Light exists in Spring
Not present on the Year
At any other period —
When March is scarcely here

A Color stands abroad
On Solitary Fields
That Science cannot overtake
But Human Nature feels.

It waits upon the Lawn,
It shows the furthest Tree
Upon the furthest Slope you know
It almost speaks to you.

Then as Horizons step
Or Noons report away
Without the Formula of sound
It passes and we stay —

A quality of loss
Affecting our Content
As Trade had suddenly encroached
Upon a Sacrament.

Jaunty Fine Print: Photos of the Le Jardin de Jaunty by Denise Sakaki