The 100th post: Love

347… not quite 350, but awfully close. That’s the number of posts I’ve written. Hard to imagine it’s been years since the 100th and looking back I’m not sure where the time went, or where all the inspiration and thoughts came from, but I guess that’s the point of staying present. Ideas come, and if we can catch on to them and we remain in the here, they materialize. Funny thing is I always post on a Thursday, and even on the craziest of weeks, I hold myself to that deadline. I figure you all depend on my nine cents (that’s humor). This week, if you’re reading this post in real time, I’m publishing on a Friday. And it’s even a repost! Planning you see, from time to time, flies out of our hands. Something else happens instead, and when it does, we stop. Look back. Assess. Step forward. An interesting dance. Reflecting forward. Bringing forth a forgotten moment into the now. With love.

Nine Cent Girl

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Seems like a lifetime ago when Nine Cent Girl was born… The fiery hues of autumn had just subsided into a monochromatic black and white across my Vermont landscape, fickle sunlight and arctic air drove me indoors; it was during this introspective time of the seasonal circle that my blog became a trusty beacon, illuminating my direction through what dark days lay ahead as well as brightening the unforeseen surprises dropped along my path.

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Black & White Meets Red

Photos taken a February years ago, but easily could have been today with a foot of new snow covering our yard, and me, out there playing in it. Yes, it is a black and white world, in so many tight and restrictive ways during these cold and forbidding days, but I encourage you to remember the beating heart under it all. Give it your all.

Nine Cent Girl

Out my window here in northern Vermont is a winter world of Black & White with nothing much in between unless you count gray… But as February has two Red inspired events (Valentine’s Day and the Red Carpet driven Oscars) I found myself venturing into a foray of party-ready RED, especially on the eve of March… so here we go straight into color!

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Make America Delicious Again

Eat, Drink and Be Merry, for no other reason than it is January… so be smart about it! Enjoy my loves, xxoo

Nine Cent Girl

Despite what most journalists and bloggers are writing about on this busy week, I’m focusing on food, yes delicious food. I guess getting ready for the Women’s March just makes me hungry. And not only hungry, but longing for smells and tastes that bring comfort and nostalgia along with warm and satisfying feelings that are so so so very needed during this time of upheaval and uncertainty. How about you? Spending more time in your kitchen than usual? Is there anything that brings your household together more than tomato sauce simmering for the afternoon?

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A Gift

Today I was a pallbearer for an aunt who loved me, and her and him, and countless others like you. Today I swam in the deep blue ocean with my uncle who showed me a rainbow and together we saw that effervescent light. Today I laughed and cried with many and knew who I was yet still wonder what tomorrow might bring.

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Today was forever and still not long enough. Today reminded me to live with faith and forgiveness and fortitude, and joy whenever it slips in the cracks. Today was quite a day… one to hold dear. A gift.

Boots Made for Walking

All work and no play is certainly not healthy, and most definitely not for this nine cent girl, but alas, it has been one of those crazy busy work weeks! As I glanced back through the archives, I discovered this playful post, shot on an autumn afternoon, years ago, showcasing me dressing up and flitting about. Just perusing it, I am reminded to make time this weekend for fun. Tis the season, my friends, to enjoy such moments. Be creative. Do what you love. At least for long enough to laugh out loud. xxoo

Nine Cent Girl

cat1Autumn is upon us, with flooding sunshine and falling leaves and dropping temperatures. This is a favorite time of year because of the blast of color and treats of harvest, after all, who doesn’t love all shades orange or every apple recipe? As I moved summer lightweights to the back of my closet and woolen garments to the front, I made another adjustment, the shift from sandals to boots! Perhaps more than ever boots are everywhere, from the runway to the street, lace-up to zip-up, ankle height to over-the-knee, suede to shiny and in every hue. For this shoot, I dug up a favorite pair from last year and donned new favorites, but each one is a walkable boot–my main criteria. After all, we need to keep moving with all this brilliance around us! Joined by my kitty we danced about in the foliage for a brilliant afternoon.

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Move Ahead

Every morning this week, the whole of my world was shrouded in mist, and not a lacy-like fairy mist, but a thick veil of velvet whiteness covering the road in front of me. I drove into it with only faith directing my course. And all the while, all around me, on the news, in my workplace, along my twitter feed, in private conversations and in large national debates, everywhere, people were lost in their own misty disasters. I didn’t want to write about all that though. So I took a walk and felt the heat of the sun with the suddenly cooler breeze, saw the dirt road stretching up ahead for miles, and thought, here, now, one must feel hope. This post, written a year ago, inspired by two fabulous and courageous and inspiring women, came to mind; came to save me from the despair facing our hurricane battered islands and coastlines, our country split by that divisive businessman turned president, and our personal distress as varied as all hell. This reblogged post could save me from writing about all of that. This post lifted me up, might lift us up. If that is the work of literature, of books, of words, then for now, let that be the work of Nine Cent Girl. Reposted with hope. Faith. Always, love.

Nine Cent Girl

A goal. A destination. A purpose. Life is filled with markers for all of us, from birth to death we move along a continuum of time, looking for meaning. In the beginning, unconscious or conscious, we encounter a string of firsts. First word. First step. First big tumble. First day away from mommy and daddy. The list goes on and on, seeming to stretch far into the milky way with possibility. At least that is the idyllic version we all hope for in life, that doors keep opening while our drive pushes us higher and higher along our projected paths.

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