Destination Walking.

Each year as summer rolls around I am reminded of one of the greater things this season has to offer: destination walks.  The term means exactly what you would guess, going on a walk in order to get somewhere, or to accomplish something.  Simple as that.

This year, I was first greeted with this seasonal luxury when my partner in crime, Lucy, and I were particularly pleased with ourselves for deciding to take advantage of the Baskin Robins located in a shopping center directly in front of my sister and her husband's home (shout out to Caroline and Kyle). 

We hopped in my car and drove over to their house eagerly awaiting our frozen treat. Side note: if you are a member of the Williams family ice cream is automatically in your top 5 favorite foods, and it is essential for you to eat it a minimum of once a day. Seriously.

Upon arrival, we gathered up all of the other participating family members and started was was for me, the inaugural walk of the season.

While our walk was short, it was filled with funny stories and laughter.  We approached our final destination only to be harshly let down by a sign posted on the door stating, "Closed this Tuesday night for remodeling", a.k.a. they were just getting new floor tiles. Such a let down!

Thankfully, this was a well equipped shopping center, complete with a Publix.  Way to be there when we needed you (and ice cream), Publix.

In all of this I was reminded of how much I appreciate destination walking in the summer.  Don't get me wrong, they can be terrible if you go around 1 or 2 in the midst of the blazing afternoon sun, but when scheduled post-dinner they are always such a treat!  

There's something so special about the temperature of the air that greets my skin as I walk out the door, the conversations had, and the peacefulness of a bustling world winding down after a hot day.  So, this summer I'm making it my goal to walk to all of my reasonably distanced destinations at the right time of day, of course, and truly enjoy the rewarding fellowship, sweet treats, and appreciation for the outdoors that were artfully crafted by my Heavenly Father's hand.

An Ode to Rainy Days.

Many of the days here in Milledgeville have taken place under cloudy skies lately. I fall asleep to the rhythm of raindrops hitting the patio outside my window and awake to the sound of tires rolling across wet pavement on Clark Street, in front of my house. The blue morning light floods my bedroom, reflecting off the cold wood floors, justifying my desire to stay just a couple more minutes in my warm bed.

Rainy days are an invitation to coziness.

Rumbles of thunder beckon me to wool socks, stretchy pants, and serinity. Burrowing under a pile of fleece and down, I am able to re-focus. I can let my mind wander, read the book I've been saying I'll get to soon, scribble musings in my journal, listen to the crackle of the candle on the table next to me, and even allow myself time of creative productivity in a non-studio setting. All thanks to the rain, which thwarts the temptation to wear myself out with frantic productivity.

Saturday was one of the best rainy days I have had in quite some time. It was perfect for a few reasons:

1) As of the day before, I had finished my final exams.

2) It included lots of people I love.

3) It involved warm food and good music.

...

After a slow morning complete with oats, hot tea, and the combination of reading and journaling, my dear roommate, Tiana, put a movie on in the living room. I opened the sliding double doors that partition my bedroom from the living room and hung my hammock in the doorway.

Little by little, one or two neighbors at a time would drift in from the cool and rainy outside, hang their raincoat on the nail by the front door, step out of rain-soaked shoes, and take shelter on the sofas, under fleece blankets, or in the hammock-perch. Before I knew it there were nearly fifteen of us enjoying the unseasonably bleak day together.

I painted with watercolors and, following my grandmother's example, invited others to do the same. A couple boys brought Monopoly, and a brave few souls posted up around my small red coffee table, committing to the task of starting and finishing a full game that inevitably took all afternoon.
Others piled up on my pillowy double bed and exchanged stories and jokes. All the while, the coffee-maker toiled tirelessly in the kitchen. Boone, the two-year-old golden retriever, sought to spend time with every visitor at some point, too.

Come dusk, we valiantly faced the dreary gloom for the sake of finding dinner, after which we returned to the candle-lit refuge we had grown so comfortable in over the course of the day; returned to fleece blankets, conversations, picking out melodies on the keyboard and strumming chords on the guitar.

Gradually, both music and conversations dwindled, and as sporadically as they came, people made their way back home.

The sounds of laughter, discourse, singing and rustling of blankets all subsided, submitting to the melody which accompanied us all along - the rhythm of raindrops hitting the patio outside my window and tires rolling across wet pavement on Clark Street.

An end was drawn to the day of rainy bliss, and my heart was full.

Grace Episcopal.

As I have grown older, just as any ordinary  human being does, I have come to embrace aspects of life that I once was not too fond of.  One of these aspects in particular is the wonderful blessing of alone time.

After a weekend full of rich time spent with good friends, some solitude in one of my favorite places on this earth was calling my name.

Grace Episcopal Church is a simple, historical, and beautiful church founded in 1893 in Pike Road, Alabama.  I first discovered it while attending one of the greater camps in the South East region known as nothing other than, "Kuzin's Kamp", put on by my  beloved grandparents, Gommy and Gaggy.  Kuzin's Kamp was a week where all nine grandchildren retreated to Gommy and Gaggy's house to enjoy a week of "camp".  This included pool time, tennis, arts and crafts, and big breakfasts followed by The Pledge of Allegiance.  What can I say, we're a patriotic bunch.  In addition to these classic camp activities came along luxuries of actually being at your grandparents house rather than a small wooden screened in box with a roof.  One of these luxuries was the sweet treat of a field trip every now and again, including one to Grace Episcopal Church.

The quaint white chapel dressed with stain glass windows and a cherry red double front door in itself welcomes you warmly, but it is what hides behind the white wood that has always enchanted me the most.

Envision images from "The Secret Garden".  That's the atmosphere that I enter into every time I visit.  It's like entering a whole new world filled with winding vines, trickling fountains, green shady trees, bright blossoms, and not to mention one of the greatest tree-houses that the state of Alabama has shown me thus far.  So in saying all of this, I think it's safe to draw the conclusion that I find this place to  be a magical one.

Today as I was driving home from church thinking to myself about all the things I needed to accomplish before Monday, I naturally went into procrastination mode, immediately having a moment of epiphany  as to where my next stop was going to be.

When my tires first hit the loose stone driveway I was brought to a whole new level of contentment.  Happy memories ranging from my childhood to previous trips I have taken to these grounds since college came flooding into my mind.  After parking and suiting up in my rain coat, I began my exploration.  Walking through these gardens is such an incredibly peaceful, still, and quiet experience that I can't help but be overwhelmed with joy and thankfulness not only for this life that I have been undeservingly blessed with, but for the ways in which my maker tirelessly romances me morning by morning, day by day, and evening by evening with the wonderful people he places ever so purposefully in my life, the beauty and creativity of His creation, and of course the quiet moments he provides for me in times like these to be with my own thoughts and the truths he whispers into my ear.

For me, alone time is essential for survival.  Even if I enter into these times with the worst of attitudes and intentions, they most always recharge me with patience that I often lack, motivation to live life the way that I have been redeemed live, and the type of joy you can feel in your chest.

So, today, I am thankful for quiet special places where I can be alone, think, and be refreshed.

Alabamian Adventures.

Initially, I thought about dedicating this post to the recent happenings in my life: 

Various art projects, a NYC trip of my own, Easter with the family, getting caught in a particularly fierce hailstorm that led to seeking shelter and buying scratch-off lotto tickets in a gas station outside of town... Etcetera.

Perhaps there will be a time for sharing those stories, but today, tonight, I'd like to talk about this weekend.

It's no secret that the great state of Alabama holds a piece of my heart. It is where I was born, where many a childhood story is set, where I learned to paint, where I have learned a great deal about Jesus, and where I cannot help but be at rest. So, when two fellas I'm friends with here in Milledgeville informed me of their plans to travel to Auburn this past weekend for a sorority formal - the same weekend of a wedding shower for my cousin and his fiance in Montgomery - I decided I needed to weasel my way into the boys' travel plans and make a weekend out of it. Serendipitous, no? I convinced my friend Sarah she needed to be a part of this adventure as well, so on Friday afternoon the four of us piled in the car and headed straight to the Plains.

In Auburn, Sarah and I saw off those going to formal (side note: Anna was lookin' fly), ate a considerable amount of snacks, and continued further south to Montgomery, Alabama - my birthplace and home to some infamous grandparents, Gommy & Gaggy.

Gommy and Gaggy, so lovingly named by their young grandchildren who couldn't pronounce a normal-sounding "grandmother" or "grandfather"back in the day, are a couple of the most wonderful folks I know. Occasionally when I admire the seemingly endless gallery of Gommy's beautiful paintings decorating their home, or listen to the witty and perfectly-told tales of Gaggy's excursions on Mt. Rainier, and the Swiss and Austrian Alps, I forget that these fascinating people are my own grandparents. However, I am quickly reminded of our genetic ties when Gaggy, for example, displays his ability to connect almost any conversation topic back to his love of ice cream - something near and dear to all of our hearts. In addition to a love of food, their love for Jesus is evident and never ceases to make me fall more in love with Him as well.

Needless to say, I enjoy spending time with those two and was thrilled to have Sarah meet them (and meet Millie the dog) as well. 

Also, while in Montgomery I taught Gaggy how to right-click on their computer, to which he deemed me "a magician."

After a slow and easy Saturday morning complete with ample breakfast foods and reading in Gommy's sunroom/studio, Sarah and I returned to Auburn where we ate lunch with Anna and another friend of ours. And what better to do after lunch than gather a few more friends and sprawl out on Samford lawn in the warm and long-anticipated sunshine? If the day sounds dreamy now, just you wait. While sprawling, we devised a dinner plan and after some time, took the steps necessary to make said plan a reality. We purchased food, went back to the apartment and started cooking. Sweet potato fries? Check. Corn on the cob? Check. Burgers? No check... until after dark when propane was acquired and grilling was made possible. But hey, good  things come to those who wait, and good it was. 

Unfortunately, while boys were grilling, I ran into an unidentifiable piece of furniture that cut my leg. This wouldn't have been anything worth thinking twice about had an adequate bandaid been readily available. But, I ended up patching together four small circle-bandaids and securing them with masking tape to meet my bandage needs. Here's to innovation. Yeah?

Dinner was followed by inevitable pillow talk and a deep night's sleep, from which we awoke on Sunday to a bright and inviting morning. After breakfast and coffee, we went to church - the church my sisters attended during their time at Auburn, and where Anna is currently a member. Though I had been to a couple services here years before, I was not in a place to appreciate the sweet simplicity of it all like I do today. Accompanied by a piano, mandolin, a couple guitars, and a violin, we sang songs whose words are older than any of the voices singing them, and yet still ring true in the hearts of many. Scott taught from 1 Samuel and I learned more than I have in a sunday morning service in quite a while. And after church, sunshine greeted us once more. 

Following lunch at Big Blue Bagel, we set out on the voyage back to Milledgeville. Picking up an hour along the way, we made it back to our little home here by mid-afternoon. Though all the details of the weekend are too many to explore entirely in one blog post, the fact that I got to spend a whole 48 hours in beloved places is enough to fill me with joy! Little adventures can do a soul good.

Sarah, me, and Princess Di. Why not.

 Gommy's amazing studio

Gommy & Gaggy reading a map

Just a couple o' cousins

New York, New York.

It's that time of year: Spring Break 2013.  While most college students typically go for a relaxing week at the beach, this year my partner in crime, Carlyle, and I decided to take on the city that never sleeps, the big apple, the empire city, New York City.

We covered ground with many of the main attractions New York has to offer, including, but not limited to shopping, broadway, museums, fabulous food, and general exploration.

While this may seem very independent and grown up of us, let me not fail to mention that yes, we did take our beloved mothers along for the ride with us.  This was a positive decision for us in many ways, but perhaps the most valuable being the constant flow of free entertainment they provided for us simply with the use of their (many) words.

Knowing that this would likely be the case for the duration of our vacation I thought it would be a good use of my time to keep a running list of the ridiculous, hilarious statements that our ever-so cutting edge mothers proclaimed.

Here are the highlights:

1. "Hold on.  Let me go ask this New York person!"- Betsy Williams

     -This, being the first quote recorded really set the tone for the trip, as it was said approximately five minutes after landing.  Way to make us blend in, Mom.

2. "We are on the cutting edge." -Valeria MacPhail

     -Needless to say, this nebulous "edge" was an extremely present thing of the trip.  In general our mothers were very intrigued by it, yet when asked to define it, probably could not put their finger on it.

3. "We are just living on the edge!" -Valeria MacPhail

     -See #2.

4. "We are going to flash mob soon!" -Betsy Williams

     -My guess is that this stems from the "edge" fascination in partnership with large masses of people surrounding her.  A flash mob would only be the natural response.

5. "I forgot the leash for Anna." - Betsy Williams

     -Again, most likely a result of surrounding large quantities of people.

6. "Let's have a discussion about our immigration policy." -Valeria MacPhail

     -This quote was obviously recorded while passing Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty.

7. "So are you going to app us?" -Betsy Williams

     -This was directed to Valeria in reference to something we discovered and embraced very tightly called, "Uber Car".  If you're not familiar with this company, I'm sure Mrs. MacPhail would be more than happy to educate you, as she is very passionate about it and their number one fan.

8. "So I think this is SoHo. Do they call it SoHo?"- Valeria MacPhail

     - As we stand on a corner with a deli entitled "SoHo Deli".

All of this said, I would say NYC 2013 mom's edition a success.  New York truly is a wonderful city full of life, excitement, culture, and opportunity.  Without the help and input of our insightful mothers my experience of the city would truly have not been the same.

Parental Appreciation.

Parents: Can't live with them, can't live without them.  I think it's safe to say that the routes in which relationships between parents and children take are notably inconsistent in the fact that they are steadily evolving and being viewed in different lights.  I know that my relationship with my parents has been a true testament to this theory of mine, at least in the small amount of life experience that I have gained over the past 20 years.  In all this, I also can't help but notice and find amusing that much like the events of history, the patterns of this relationship I have with my mom and dad is what I have observed so far to be a repeating cycle.

Like most little girls, up until about the age of 7 I found my parents to be the absolute coolest.  I rarely stopped holding my dad's hand or sitting in my mom's lap, excluding obvious situations like school, sports, and a number of other independent activities that simply would not function properly with a full grown human at my side.  

Then, set in my awkward phase.  It was a terrible time for me in terms of appearance, due to my lack of knowledge in how to tame my wavy, frizzy hair... my older sister even took it upon herself to label me with the endearing nickname, "smush-bush" because of the state of my hair and the fact that I was still working on growing into my nose (by this point I'm sure some fabulous imagery is happening for you).  Not only were my looks shocking, in a bad way, at this stage of life, but this stage also ushered in my pre-teen years, then extending into my teenage (high school) years.  We all know what this means: sassy, angsty, attitude.

At this point I viewed myself as far too sensational to be seen with my parents, and more often times than not was convinced that despite my age (it's just a number, right?) and life experience, I was, in fact, far more wise and cultured.  As a result, I rarely listened to things they had to say, or rules they enforced because in my mind, as cliche teenager as this may sound, they just didn't understand anything I was going through- extremely dramatic, I know.

Now, as I am just barely emerging from my teen years, I like to think that I have discovered some new truths about the many things that I have been blessed with.  One of those blessings being the extraordinary parents that have been a constant in my life and raised me in a way that clearly points to their foundation in Christ.

I'm beginning to find myself back at stage one: thinking my parents are the absolute coolest (omit the part about me constantly holding my dad's hands and sitting on my mom's lap- it's just not practical, or normal for that matter anymore).  I've come to appreciate them for who they are and everything they stand for, whether it be in temporary things or eternal things.  I mean, seriously, the majority of people don't get to say that in the 70's their mom played guitar with The Drifters, and their dad took Elivs' suit to the cleaners at the spry young age of a high school boy while working at the Macon Hilton, and together have gone hiking in the Swiss Alps, met the President of the United States, and have raised three incredibly different, yet complicatedly similar daughters well.

The list goes on and on, and I am always surprised when they tell me another story of the sort, because it truly seems like a never ending archive.  But in reality, while I do find myself amazed by their countless adventures, I am even more in awe of their eternal perspective, love for the Lord, and the way in which they have raised me with wisdom, prayer, my best interest placed above theirs, and just plain joy.

So thanks, Douglas and Elizabeth Williams for being the coolest and best parents out there, and for putting up with my childish, dramatic, and foolish ways.  Keep doing what you do!  I love you both a whole lot and hope to be as good of a parent as each of you are to me one day.  Lastly, sorry if I made you cry, Mom (another great quality of my mom: she is very tenderhearted).

Purple.

In case you haven't noticed, Lucy and I have strategically chosen the layout of this space to be composed of primarily neutral colors.  The reason for this being we want to be able to excite this space with colors from our own stories and creations, not pre-chosen ones that may have nothing to do with our current ideations.

This leads me to my next point of interest.

Purple.

If you know me well, you know that my favorite color is purple.  It is the perfect marriage of one of the warmest temperatures of color, red, and moving onto the cooler side of the color wheel, blue.  To put it plainly, it is a brilliant range of hues occurring between red and blue.

I generally try to communicate my passion for purple as frequently as possible whether it be in the things I wear, or the canvases that I cover.

You see, not only is purple a color that I like to look at, but a hue that allows me to brighten up a rainy, gray day with the color of my pants, or a shade belonging to the flowers sitting on my desk that remind me of the creativity of my maker, or the wonderful scent of the mediterranean mint, lavender, which instantly calms me.  Not to mention, it was formerly worn as a symbol of royalty or high office.

So heres to you, purple, for being of the most terrific colors out there, and calling my attention to some of the better things in life.