vintage gingham, pink accents, & pure americana

ginghamII

There is something unquenchably domestic in me. It’s my regressive not-so-secret, my Feminine Mundane: I love fresh linens and birdsong and every talisman of country summer. I love lemonade* on the front porch and bluegrass echoing from eave to eardrum. I’ve always aspired to city slicking, but I don’t think I could sacrifice my Americana.

ginghamI ginghamVI

We’re not there yet. The trees are still bound up; the wind still punishes. But I see rivulets collecting beneath snowbanks and in sidewalk cracks. It’s coming. And I might as well dress like it. If I can usher in the spring with gingham and bluegrass and brightness and glee, I will do my damnedest to.

We all wear costumes. At least some of us admit it.

ginghamVII ginghamIX ginghamX ginghamV ginghamIV ginghamIII ginghamVIII

*I actually do not like lemonade at all. But it’s the principle of the thing.

 

1 Comment

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s