one midsummer afternoon

In a neighborhood,  a couple blocks away
 from mine, I walked.

I wore a thrifted tie dyed tank.

I stood, and I slightly smiled.

I wore a pink bracelet my mom made.

I wore a guitar pick necklace,
my cousin made.

I got sassy, but that's not anything new.

Here's my midsummer day
and midsummer night art pages.

I go outside my backyard. I hear insects, cars, neighbors' dogs barking, some annoying motor sound from the middle school behind my house buzzing. There are birds chirping, and an airplane overhead.
 I feel itchy. I'm probably allergic to something
the wind is blowing faintly.
 I hear it gently rustle the leaves in my yard.
They sway. I feel warm cement on my bare feet.
I smell mustiness and dirt. I taste my peppermint gum.
It's not calm and peaceful. I'm getting a headache, so I go inside.

July 9, 2012

It says:
The only garden she could grow was with a pen.

At night is usually when I practice my guitar.
We can hear airplanes, trains, insects, and did I mention dogs barking? I keep a heating pad,
and I read until I'm ready to fall asleep.
We have these high ceilings with these semi-circle windows, and the sky is often not dark, not black. Here it's like a grey lavender through the window.  The other night I saw a huge grasshopper on the window.

 July 13, 2012

It says:
"You are the author of  your life's adventure.
Weave your tales of wonder."... by Brancy Britton