I am a little sailor girl....or a pirate looks at 44

I have obsessed recently with vintage sailor things? I don't know exactly why though? My dad was in the Navy, and I've always been fascinated with his two tattoo's (as is my 7 year old.) I live on the Gulf Coast and love the water. I'm a Cancer, born July 18th....and oh yeah I'm about to turn 45? Maybe that's it! That old Jimmy Buffett song, about Mother, Mother Ocean has been swimming in my head lately? hmmmmmmmmmmmmm

Here's some of the fun vintage sailor-y things I've recently collected:

Firstly there's this little guy ~ a World War II sailor bank. I have him perched at the beachhouse on my dresser and he's fitting there just fine♥ Suddenly I notice my bedroom there kindof reminds me of what I romantically imagine a bedroom in an old lighthouse to look like? Cool blues, a quilt hanging behind the headboard. Maybe I was a lighthouse keeper's wife in another life?


Then there's the clothes.....ah the clothes, so many nautical clothes. A sailboat skirt here ~ a cute little crop top there that pairs nicely with some Wal-mart red shorts (when's the last time I owned red shorts?) It's madness I say!





I won't even go into the I love SAILING tote that I loved all the more because it was vintage AND from Halifax....a sailing tote from Nova Scotia...how cool is THAT?





Now with all I've plundered maybe this feeling will pass...maybe I'll book a cruise...

and maybe I am just a little sailor girl♥

ephemera

startled by the gathering flight

of all those black birds chatting in the trees

memories stirred of falls gone by

and the breezy dusty rustlings overhead

I looked up and remembered

some things I have collected:

a six year old girl paused in that same spot

noticing all those birds and a little afraid

of their multitude and drop dead cries

seeking comfort in lockets of my hair

and the smell of the red reindeer cap I’m wearing ~

my red-haired niece with miniature hands

inspecting something for a first time

a crumbling leaf’s texture or maybe some small stone

turning it over again and again

in curiosity with a hint of recognition ~

that first curious kiss in the space no more between

but closed now….and yet so wide open

with wanting pouring in first tasting my I love you’s tongue

and the beginning of something hard, but worth it…

the quickening butterfly that was savannah

as I lay in bed one chilly morning

praying it wasn’t yet another dream

memorizing every small delightful thing

in that glorious autumn’s day including ~

swarming grackles laughing at me…