Rose, Bud, Thorn

Rose
A little bit late because it’s not the brink of the New Year anymore, but a worthwhile thought nevertheless:
On New Year’s Eve, Derek and I were at dinner with one of his friends from home who asked us, “What was your bud, rose, and thorn for 2013?” In other words, what was the beautiful part of your life, what has the most potential that you’re excited to see blossom in the future, and what was a pain? I thought it was an interesting way and especially beautiful visual to consider when reflecting on the past year. Here’s to 2014 and a year full of roses.
Photo: Dumbarton Oaks | Georgetown, D.C.

 

On technicalities.

(So technically I believe I promised you that I would never do a post solely focused on you, but since anniversaries are for two people that means I count as 50% of the following, right? That’s my loophole – this is only partially about you, therefore doesn’t break my promise!)
2012.10.4Despite the suggestiveness of this photo, which was taken over a month before we started dating, I would not have even remotely thought at the time that you would end up being my boyfriend. It would seem that (yet again) you’re the more intuitive one. Happy anniversary to my best friend, my most trusted source of honest advice, the person who puts a smile on my face every day, who loves me unconditionally. Turns out, this wasn’t just a pose for the camera – I actually do think you’re kinda cool.
You know I probably have about eight pages worth of card for you to read, and I know that although I could write something on here every day about how much I love you, that certainly would not be your favorite way to receive such thoughts. So I’ll somewhat respect your wishes by keeping it short, sweet, and discreet…in another language using words written by someone else that are already the world’s to read.
Te amo sin saber cómo, ni cuándo, ni de dónde,
te amo directamente sin problemas ni orgullo:
así te amo porque no sé amar de otra manera,
sino así de este modo en que no soy ni eres,
tan cerca que tu mano sobre mi pecho es mía,
tan cerca que se cierran tus ojos con mi sueño.

That time we hiked.

Hiking | Bethel, MEIn the interest of being completely honest, up until last weekend I had never hiked before, nor did I really understand what “hiking” actually meant. When my boyfriend and I planned a weekend trip to Maine, we included a hike as a central part of the itinerary – the highlight, if you will. Naively, I figured that would mean we’d be walking in the woods a little, maybe it would get a little steep at some points, maybe it would take two hours? Newsflash, CMQ – apparently that’s not hiking.

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Falling for Fall

Pumpkin PickingI feel like this year especially, everyone I know has plans to go (or already went) to a farm/orchard to do cutesy fall things like apple picking, pumpkin picking, or corn-mazing. Perhaps it’s cliché then that last Sunday the boyfriend and I stopped at a small (tiny!) farm in Canton to do all those things? If so, then I have to confess I really am a fan of the occasional cliché. After all, there’s a reason things catch on.

Pakeen Farm

Pakeen FarmHonestly if you’re ever driving on I-93 near the Canton exit at this time of year, this little place is right off the highway and so cute. Totally worth a quick (or long!) stop.

Pakeen Farm

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You know what’s weird?

I’m an ocean person. I’m an ocean person in the die-hard, beach chairs in my car long past the point of sensibility, swimming in September seems like a great idea, sigh of relief when my toes hit a beach kind of way. If I somehow found a career that let me spend the rest of my life being around the water, it would be a perfect match. I’d sign on the dotted line for that, no questions asked. I revel in waves and salt and dunes. My favorite smell is found when you bury your face in a towel after a long day: a combination of ocean, sunscreen, and the way it smells when fabric has been dried by the sun. So far, I have yet to reveal the weird part of this scenario.

Here it is: I date a mountain person. As in, my boyfriend is someone who describes his dream vacation home as being a beautiful cabin up north. He likes fresh powder and sunsets seen through pine-dotted peaks. Being a few yards away from a moose in Jackson Hole this December made his day. Seeing his breath swirl into the air in a spiral of chilly fog probably brings a smile to his face, and he doesn’t wear a jacket outside as often as he should.

If a person’s favorite habitat were a measure of their compatibility with another, it would seem like we might be utterly doomed. In my idealistic mind, I always pictured myself with a fellow ocean lover, someone whose stomach flipped over a beautiful sunset/waves picture the way mine does. However, I’ve come to accept that maybe it’s better this way, with us each having a unique preference. He teaches me to love more than I did previously. He challenges me to appreciate different kinds of beauty. Together, we both love the ocean and the mountains and each other. And that’s just perfect.

 

Editor’s Note: The boyfriend in question has read this post and would like everyone to be reminded of the fact that he does, in fact, enjoy the ocean too. Guess I just got lucky.