the most delicate of greens

orange, grey, and green

While I hide away from winter under my yak wool blankets— and before I fly off to a place so dear to my heart— I'm going to show you a little bit of what December looked like between Lisbon and Porto.



Be prepared for a pork bonanza.

secret world

the concept of heaven

The concept of heaven to me, is of this earth. It's flexible and passing— sensory. I feel it in my fingers when they are wrapped around a mug of tea, I hear it in the laugh of a loved one, I smell it in a good carrot soup. It's everywhere, and if you are mindful and aware of what is happening around you, it will always be with you. There's a heaven for me in the heart of Portugal— the Interior, as Pedro calls it. It's in that honey morning light, the song of a wren, the scent of soil, and the warmth of a wood burning stove.

I feel a tremendous peace here, and if I let it, it swallows up my worries like a glassy pool. It's amazing— the meaningless chatter that can occupy a head, but I am convinced that every inhale of this intoxicating air will cure.