Wisteria, Gloucester Circle

Wisteria, Gloucester Circle

A little over a month ago, I finally got up the nerve to start selling some of my photography prints online through Society6. This was a long time coming for me, so thank you to those who have patiently listened to me fret about how, when, and if I should do this. If you are interested, you can purchase prints of the image above, and a few others here. You can always find the shop by clicking the “Shop” tab in the menu as well. I’ll keep updating the shop as I work on editing images, so check back often!

This particular image is one of my favourite shots from a trip to London in 2014. We stayed with some friends in Greenwich, and this beautiful little corner wasn’t too far away. I adore wisteria, and I love the wall and street sign here. Our whole trip was rather grey and rainy (what can you expect from London in April?). As a result, the images from that trip feel quintessentially British and timeless. I feel like this shot could have been taken just as easily in 1970 as in 2014.

Read This

Required reading. Last time I kept a blog with any sort of regularity, I ran a series like this. It was one of my favourite things to put together each week, so I’m bringing it back. A friend of mine shared this glorious piece from the ever on point The Toast with me on Facebook a while back. I read it an immediately missed the person who shared it with me, amazed at just how well he seems to know me. I also immediately wondered how the author had managed to steal my thoughts. This is Jody Mace’s “Considering a Possible Human Head”.


Maybe this has happened to you.

You take the sheets out of the dryer and there’s something wadded up inside a big sheet. The big sheet has twisted around it, creating a large, round pocket filled with whatever is wadded up.

As you start to untwist the sheet you think, “What if this is a human head?”

Then you stop untwisting the sheet because, although chances are it is not a human head, if it is, you have a whole lot of figuring out to do.



Ella is looking at her oddly.

“What’s the matter, Morag?”

“I – don’t know. Sometimes I get – well, scared. I don’t feel all that normal.”

Ella shrugs.

“So – who wants to be normal, anyhow?”

“I do,” Morag says with passionate conviction. “Oh Ella, I do. I want to be able to talk to boys the way they want to be talked to. Only I can’t seem to get the trick of it.”

“Boys like that are schmucks,” Ella says furiously. “But yeh, I know what you mean.”

“You too?”

“Yeh. I went out with this guy a coupla weeks ago, and I thought Now this is It. Here is your opportunity, oh Ella bella. So what did Ella the schlemiel do? Did she tell him how masterful and handsome he was? Not she. Oh no. She began talking in her winsome way about Marx’s theory of polarity. Why? Why? I’ll never see him again.”

“Well, then, why?” Morag is laughing, but not in mockery.

“I don’t know,” Ella says gloomily. “It just seemed so phoney, somehow, all that whole mutual flattery bit. And why should I pretend to be brainless? I’m not brainless.”

“I know,” Morag says. “And yet I envy girls like Susie Trevor so much that I damn near hate them. I want to be glamorous and adored and get married and have kids. I still try to kid myself that I don’t want that. But I do. I want all that. As well. All I want is everything.”

Ella strikes a theatrical wrist to her forehead. “Engrave it on my tombstone.”

— Margaret Laurence, The Diviners

Some Years

1 a.m.

January 1, 2016

New Year’s Day

Some years you want to pause at the end and reflect. Some years you want to remember the things you learned, the people you met, the love you felt, the places you visited, the things you accomplished. Some years you are sad to say farewell. Some years you run headlong into the next year with high hopes, declaring that you can’t wait to see what it has in store for you.

Some years you want to light the year on fire and walk away while it burns.

This year is the second kind.