I hosted my very first dinner party this past weekend.

A perfect excuse to buy flowers and light candles — two of my very favorite things. Pretty sure I want to host more dinner parties in my future life.

And one more.

Somehow the sky is always my favorite.

Last weekend, we decided to take the scenic route on our drive back from NC. I can’t really explain it, but there’s something about this drive through the mountains — green leaves and blades of grass, quiet hills and valleys, pretty little houses tucked away, and the sky spilling over with clouds.

It just sets my heart right. 

(Source: icanread)

I snapped this photo when I was wandering around Old Town a few weekends ago. And quietly I thought, Someday, I’d like to live in a house with a red door. With peeling paint and that scratches and sings when it opens and closes, as if it has its own story to tell.

I like to imagine the lives a door like this has seen. The changes. The stops and starts. The births of things new. It is the kind of life that I imagine I’ll one day know too.

I’m pretty sure I’ve been thinking and writing about color a lot lately.

Like the purple and blue buildings on a Saturday morning in Old Town. Or the blue sky and green trees that hang overhead. 

I’ve held my camera in my palms and snapped photos of them all, to keep them safe and sound for later moments. Because they give me hope — the colors of those little bits and pieces of life. Is that possible? For the sky and leaves and pretty buildings to make me believe in the good things that could be near? Correction. That are near?

It sounds so simple — that the little things really are the big things, or they can be if I let them. But I’m pretty sure it’s true.

When I walk on quiet sidewalks and stop to snap photos of pretty purplish-pink flowers, I know that spring is here. Officially.