In my quest to never pack too much or too little, I’ve learned the following:
Make a list of ONLY essentials… hand lotion, peppermint tea, ear plugs, etc.
Pack all clothing on a whim.
Trust me.
Overthinking the clothes is the worst possible move.
Finally, MAKE NO LISTS where books or writing materials are concerned.
Bung every book you’ve been meaning to read for the past year into a giant suitcase until it becomes almost impossible to move and then drag it to your destination and when you get there spend all your time in…
a) the local bookshop, buying new stuff to read,
or…
b) ferreting through the bookshelves of the place you’re staying and reading about Baghdad in 1985, and William Bartram (a naturalist no one ever heard of and who Audubon felt a little insecure around), Roma Gypsies, Harlem, and Rico, Colorado, which has a population of 150, no stop lights, one grocery store and five saloons.
Eventually settle on a slim volume by Colette.
♥
Happy solstice.
Matilda Magtree 
Your pictures make me strangely nostalgic for snow, though we have snow here. Funny, that.
City snow and woodland snow are different… well, the snow’s the same, but the backdrop… and the breathing. The breathing is no small thing, right? (Gasp!)
You kill me.
And you’re right about city/woodland snow. And air, eh?
Yes, even in quiet, park, woodlandesque settings *within* cities… there’s a difference. A lovely thing to study. (Also, there was a place — actual woodland — several years ago where I found such absolute silence it felt startling. I’ve never found quite the same totality of hush since. Always looking though, or listening…)
Carin, this series absolutely fills me with smiles, peace and a kind of longing for that day (or days) in a life. The outdoor fire at the end with a warm drink – well, heaven.
Thank you, Allison. Am picturing that smile.
(Also, that warm drink at the fire was red wine.)
xo