loving my home

i was going to talk about something of quite importance on this post, 


but i seem to have forgotten it.


i'll just keep writing.






i have learned to love Alaska.
i love the breezy summers, the smell of the cool air, and especially my home.
here is my home.


my little handprint is engrained in the pavement behind our house in the driveway, right along the edge next to the grass.
the stacks of wood in the forest below our yard remind me of younger days when i would climb up on them and play games with my siblings.  especially the long tree that fell over; we used it as a balancing beam.
the treehouse in our yard that my own father built.  with his two bare hands!  i remember climbing up on the planks of wood during its beginning of creation.
the remnants of special notes, beautiful pictures, and inspiring thoughts that i keep track of in journals and in my dream box.
the piano where i sit down when i need a moment to myself.
all the stashes of swim gear that are randomly found up in our loft, in the bathroom, and in the cubbies of my closet.
the baskets of yarn and knitting needles, when my mom, sisters, and I used to spend much of our time knitting and at the wool shop.  
the wood stove where i have layed in front of many times: in forts, asleep on the tiles, reading the scriptures, with our puppies, next to my family, and sharing scary stories. 


i love my family.


i really love it here.


although my years through school have given me a slightly negative view of....everything here...being out of school for this moment has given me the opportunity to recognize everything that is so beautiful.


some people here just glow!  with inner beauty and awesomeness.


and some just bring others down.  which is not cool.  which is why this in a small font.




despite the mosquitoes, the small yet incredibly creepy bugs, and the incredibly large and freaky bugs, this place here is full of splendor and magnificence.