Florida in July
Tag / Photography
Disney, Mid-July
Beach Town
A day in Jensen Beach, FL.
We wove through all these colorful shops – an art gallery, a jewelry boutique, and a plant nursery to name a few. So tightly packed together that you have to walk on the doorstep of one shop just to get to another. Shared decks with colorful mismatched chairs and tables.
Amidst the chaos of the new over-developed and busy Florida still exists little pockets of old charm. Small colorful beach towns with real people and real hospitality. The kind of Florida people come to Florida for.
This state may be my home – the only one I’ve ever had – but I’m not above playing tourist when I can. It’s one of my favorite hobbies.
We took a few turns into a quiet courtyard and tucked into the far corner, we found the Celtic Creamery. The sweet woman at the counter explained that make their ice cream with Irish cream (it was delicious) and we chatted for a while. In a land of ice cream shops sitting on every corner, it was exciting to find one that’s unique.
I won’t give away my favorite beach spot, but it’s not hard to find. Still full of shells and birds. A pathway of grassy dunes and tangled wild nature that opens into the vast expanse of sand and salt water.
After weeks of summer rain, this was a much needed day of persistent sunshine and a couple new adventures mixed with the familiar ones.
Mushrooms in the Yard
From a fairy’s perspective 🧚♀️
Night Owls
Are you more of a night or morning person?
The earth stills after a long day of clatter and movement. There is anticipation in a sunrise, yes, and how exciting that can be…but there is relief in a sunset. The dark is a blanket. A reward, whether you’ve earned one that day or not. The noise is coming to a close and your shoulders can sag. There will be time for worry and rushing around tomorrow.
A sunset, I think, is God’s gift to us everyday. An explosion of color to remind us that life isn’t as mundane as we’d like to believe. There is magic, when you look for it. I see a sunset as both an end to the day and a precursor for life. A celebration of life. A reminder to slow down, no matter where you are or what the day behind you looked like. Something to look forward to, like a promise. Every. Single. Day.
My husband and I often tell stories about a magical society split into two. Impractical, sure. Divisive, unfortunately. But an answer to living in a society designed for only half of its people. Night people can simply choose to be night people, in this world. Night people have night jobs and night hobbies and the streets are safe because they are busy. Maybe that would take away some of the magic – the calm- but I was built for it either way. The morning, as beautiful as it can be, gives me a sense of unease. I wake up early, groggy and grumpy for hours. Sick, even. Unable to eat. By the time I’m full of life, the sun is setting once again. Bed will beckon soon because life demands it that way. Everyday I fight against my natural rhythm and the obnoxious sun for the sake of participating in the world we have built. No one talks about how overwhelming sunlight can be when you’re bustling around.
How much simpler life could be, I wonder, if every day wasn’t a fight against that rhythm, a cup of coffee in hand just to survive. How much more pleasant we could all be if we learned to appreciate one another for what comes naturally, rather than fight about which way is superior. If we could appreciate and make room for what we are all good at/built for, rather than pushing one another into one uniform way of life just because it’s what we’ve been doing for a while.
I’m so glad that there are sunrise people. Early risers. Sunset people. Middle-of-the-night people. Middle-of-the-day people. How beautiful it is that we are so varied, fulfilling and appreciating each part of our existence.
Tennessee Summer 2024 (Dollywood, nature, etc.)
Photos From Epcot’s Flower & Garden Festival 2024
Epcot has always been my sister’s favorite Disney park, and though I didn’t understand that as a child (boring!), it grew on me over the years. Now it’s my favorite too. Even through all of its recent changes, I still see her there. I’ve gone without her more times than I can count in adulthood, and yet she’s always been there somehow. With me. In memory, yes, but in some bigger spiritual way too.
Going together as adults was so different than all those years ago, but just as fulfilling. We talked about our lives, the good and the bad, between excited bouts of “Look at that plant!” because we both have homes now. We both have gardens, and though I’m still learning how to care for a whole yard without it overwhelming me, her garden is her therapy. It shows in its abundant, meticulous beauty. It shows when her eyes light up and her voice lifts a whole octave at the mere sight of a flower she’s never seen before. I share that excitement because it is exciting, but more so because it is her excitement. And that’s a beautiful thing to see.
Photos From Canada
Gabrielle Mclean 