Summer is almost over, and these goodies are helping me transition from bright, hot days to cooler, cloudy ones.
That in-between layer. You know what I’m talking about. At this time of year, it’s good to have a little something on hand in case the air conditioning is a little chilly or you are out and about when the sun goes down along with the temperature, but isn’t heavy or bulky. I found this lovely linen scarf/towel from Fog Linen Work at a local sidewalk sale in the beginning of August, and I’ve been using it pretty much daily ever since. It’s the perfect thing to cover up with in this season. I took it on a rafting/camping trip a few weeks ago and it was PERFECT. I used it as a shawl when cozied up around the campfire with friends and after the inevitable swim while the raft floated us downstream. And I’m sure it’ll be a good layer come autumn, too.
Angels On Bare Skin. This Lush scrub is called that for a reason. Lavender-y and full of ground almonds that gently exfoliate everything from the face to the feet, it leaves my body feeling heavenly (pun totally intended).
Everything’s coming up roses. This rosehip oil makes my skin feel like a metaphorical flower field. I find summer to be too hot to use traditional lotion, and this oil is juuuust rich enough to give my skin moisture and light enough to sink in fast (a.k.a. I’m not sweating in it). My skin has been loving this stuff; I even rub a few drops into the ends of my wet hair after a shower. It’s kept split ends and dry skin at bay– yay!
Avoiding the lobster look. The summer sun can be mean to pale folks like me, which means spraying myself down with Solar Recover. This spray does the job of those ‘sunburns relief’ gels, but in a spray that’s all natural and cruelty free (bonus! it smells like lavender goodness).
Ruby Red. I got this tin of lip tint from Fat & The Moon for my birthday in late July, and it’s been my go-to lip product since then. It gives a bit of burgundy colour along with moisture, so I kill two birds with one stone. And the scent! Gosh! It’s a clove+cinnamon+orange dream.
What self care things are you carrying with you into the fall season?
Today I took off my cotton sheets and replaced them with the flannel ones of my childhood. Not by choice, I assure you; as I watched Magic in The Moonlight, a favourite summer film of mine, I accidentally spilled licorice tea all over my summer sheets. So, into the hamper they went, and my backup sheets– these floral beauties– replace them temporarily.
I recently rediscovered this sheet set while looking for something else entirely (this oft is how I find things). The sight of the cream-coloured cloth with little roses scattered atop reminded me of sleeping on the top bunk of the bunk bed I shared with my sister; arguing and sharing fears and dreaming with her all in the same evening, of books crammed between the wood and the mattress, of the light that clamped to the side of the bunk that was frequently on hours later than my bedtime because I liked to read when no one else was awake. They remind me of who I was when I was young and who I am today, and how proud I am of both of them.
It’s awfully late, so I better sign off for now.
It’s good to see you again, July. I missed you.
Here are a few of my favourite snaps from my senior photo shoot with Sarah a few weeks ago. We explored the trails behind the Grand Traverse Commons and snacked on pastries from Pleasanton’s (my very favourite bakery) and picked wildflower bouquets from beside dirt pathways and made the dreamiest memories. Her brother Adam, was a stellar assistant, helping keep the changing tent from blowing away in the breeze and carrying props and cameras. I am beatific with how the pictures turned out. I am satisfied with the way they are a bit whimsical and retro and that they capture my nature so absolutely.
I’m not altogether sure what one does with these kinds of pictures, but I’ll find something.
Here we are, on our last day together. It seemed to zip by, and now I am reminiscing of sparklers whirling and day trips to the coast and the forest and not-too-distant small towns and flowers and the farmer’s market and the start of the film festival and bonfires and making new friends and laughing with the folks I love endlessly. You have taught me lessons I will forever remember– to be patient, to focus, to keep my silly teenage emotions from bleeding into everything else, and I am grateful. New memories are cataloged within me; ones that I will glance back at and smile contentedly.
I will miss you, my dearest July, but I eagerly await seeing all your relatives once again. See ya next year.
Summer hums. In my ears, across the water, around the hot red bricks that built the local downtown area so many years ago. It whistles right at me; I catch it in my sun-kissed hands.
You are stifling and humid and sticky today. My hair adheres to the back of my neck and every limb must have it’s own space, for fear of the discomfort when the time comes to separate them. So I escape to the basement for the majority of the day, where the air is cooler– but even then a fan is needed. I drink gallons of lemonade and eat as many popsicles as suits my weary self. I languish and lie around; exertion of any sort makes me a sweaty mess.
I don’t like being lazy July. Could you ask August to keep it some degrees cooler? It would be so kind of you.
Oh, I am not eager for you to end. In fact, I’m a little sad that our time is rapidly ending. But our times have been grand, and I am already excited for next year. Maybe then you’ll cool off a bit.
Hello again. It’s been a few days since we’ve last spoken. This is not neglect or forgetfulness or carelessness; I have been drenched in living, the hum of adventures drowning out to-do’s. Here I am, after a road trip to the coast, where my mum and sister and I skipped rocks on a lake that seems as big as an ocean and strolled through greenhouses and worked hard to keep our fudgesicles from dripping down our hands; and a Sunday spent celebrating my seventeenth birthday with some of my favourite folks, savouring every last minute with you.
I’ll miss you, July. You and your wildflowers and stiflingly hot days and raspberry season. But I mustn’t yearn for you before you’ve even left. So, let’s make the rest of our time together the very best. What do ya say?