yard.

dear fleur.
our computer crashed. like a man falling with a parachute that has a hole in it. so pretty much the only access i have to photos is weheartit. this could get interesting.

(via)

ria was just playing the piano.
tandy was curling her hair.
franny went for a walk.
dante is running around the yard.
daddy is in the garage.
mamie is in the kitchen.

YOU ARE HERE.
(see photo above.)
that's right. you're there. in my heart. not quite dead center, but positively in there. i think you know who you are.
you're my family.
my best friend.
that boy i made up in my head yesterday.
you're the curling iron.
ludwig bemelmans.
or my sweater.

you are here.

i feel pretty loving today.

on a sidenote, the pear tree has bloomed. now i'm patiently waiting for the lilacs to come out.
one word for today.
yardwork.
nice.

last night i dreamed i was doing yardwork. in my own yard. at my own house. a little white house. the lilacs had bloomed. i put them in my hair. and a little girl was outside with me. her name was 'madeline.' she was my little girl. with dark curly hair. and blue eyes. my husband was inside the house. he had blue eyes.
i laid down in the grass with madeline.
and i sang in her ear.
she kissed me.
and then my husband came outside to be with us.
and he laid down next to our daughter.
and he played with my hair above her head.
then he sang.

i loved them both.
and my yard.

so,
madeline,
you are here.
and my future husband too.

love, bella.

edit: i dream weird.

socks.

Dear Fleur.
Woke up this morning with my Mamie shaking me by the shoulders.
Rolled out of bed.
Tired eyes.
Piled my hair on top of my head.
Pulled a white knit cable sweater on.
Looked out the french doors and saw the snow on the ground.
& Skyped Sam.

This boy.

(That lovely lady is Kaylene. She's a brilliant soul.)

He's doing fine. Caught a petite cold. But fine.
We talked about socks. And people who hate us. Did you know, not a lot of people hate me? I never thought of that. But then I wonder, how many people actually love me? And I think, if putting all of my pairs of socks on someone's doorstep would make them love me, I would do it. But I'm a ridiculous person. So I don't know.
What would I do to get someone to like me?
Really. How far would I go?
And do people actually like me?
Really. In their hearts?

I LIKE SOCKS TODAY.
I have tube socks running through my head.

Love from Bell.

peppermint hair.

Dear Fleur.
I caught the flu bug with Ria. I hated him.
He's gone now.
But yesterday, I got to Skype a boy in Afrika because of him.
(So maybe I don't really hate him...)

•
she woke up late. even though she'd gone to bed early. she slipped her little fingers around her Bible and opened it. yawned, as she read her passage for the morning. Psalm #105. sweet tasting.
then she folded her hands and prayed. she prayed for a boy in Afrika. a girl named Olivia. and the sun to shine. she prayed for someone who doesn't have a washing machine. for a boy named Nat. and orphans she'd never met.
and then she pulled a little knitted green sweater on and put her hair up. there was little pink paper hearts falling all over her pillow. spilling out of her boxes and books. they made her happy.
she wanted coffee in the french press this morning. but Ria wasn't up to make it. so she just pretended. and was satisfied with a cup of tea and Robert Browning.
she went back to her bedroom and cleaned up the paper hearts as best she could.
but she wouldn't lie to herself.
she kind of liked them all over her bed&blankets.
so she stuffed a few in her pillow for good dreams. and sprinkled the rest in a box for later.
then she went to wash her hair over the side of the bathtub using peppermint shampoo.
it was going to be a good day.
over the flu. with hair that smelled like peppermint. and a box of hearts.
a good day.
•
love from Bella.

Darling.

Dear Fleur.

Yesterday:
Did you know Petra Mathers understands love?
I bought one of her books.
And I read it while sitting on the floor.
Wearing a knitted grey sweater&black tights while listening to Gavin DeGraw.
Then later on I went to the grocery store in my older sister's little blue and white flowered nightie.
With messy hair.
And then we went to REDBOX.
And rented "Bright Star."
Did you know I think John Keats was the most brilliant man?
That movie was darling.
It made me cry in my bed at night.
And from now on,
I will struggle to write poetry,
start a 'butterfly farm' in my bedroom,
love,
kiss all my letters I write,
and sew on my bed.
Because I think Fanny Brawne was the most brilliant woman.
And I secretly want to be like her.
Did you know the stars were really pretty last night?
They were.
I looked up at them.
While standing in the cold.
Barefoot.
Heureux.
It felt good.

Love from Bella.