I used to read a lot in college... and by "read" I mean skim stacks of books about religion and theoretical concepts of philosophy. At one point we were reading 6-8 books a week for my undergraduate degree.

So I kind of ruined myself towards books. I got real into self-help books after college, but again, those can only be tolerated so much as well. Until... The Hunger Games. Teen fiction at it's best. I devoured the series last Christmas while getting through the stomach flu. The delusion plus my desire to tear through pages made it a wonderful experience. So now I can't stop... it's the first time in my life I've understood the joy of reading. After all the reading rainbow specials, book clubs, degrees etc... I finally get it. Reading for pleasure, not because I have to, or because I'm trying to find answers to life... but because stories are exciting.

It's so serious, I'm looking forward to next Autumn because the final book of the series I'm reading releases. Am I still cool? Or is this what you do when you are old?

So, I'm taking book suggestions- because my world is brand new and I'm experiencing the sorrow after finishing a series and looking for something else to imagine. If you have any recommendations
send them my way... GO! (p.s. don't like horror or 50 shades)

Marais USA black shoes, anthropologie black dress, umbrella via kids fashion love

Polka dots y'all,

My {same} grandparents owned a different farm with horses when I was growing up. Walking the woods, discovering tadpoles and eating the oats out of the barn is where I felt the most alive, full of wonder and revelation as a child. I dreamed of riding those graceful beasts and galloping through the forrest.

My uncle Matthew took me on my first ride, no saddle, no protection- and he told me just to grab onto the mane. I can still remember the feeling of rough, thick textured strands in my hands and the fear and awe of running through the pasture on a wild stallion. My aunt Voneda later showed me really how to ride, how to care for the horses and that it was ok if I wanted to taste their feed. I loved to scrape out their hooves but was always so afraid of hurting them.

My aunt Voneda had long, straight dark hair. She was always so beautiful to me and sometimes I felt like her daughter riding the horses and petting their noses.

Voneda passed away several years ago, but left her last, beautiful show-horse to roam in the mountains at my grandparents. And every time I get near any horse, but especially Lacey, I feel like they know me. Not because I've been around them, but because their mystery is so intuitive and strange I feel like in front of them they see the child in me- that dreamed of having long, flowing hair and galloping in the chill of the air; free and wild.

So even if I'm uptight, or dressed differently, or bitter about life, I feel like they know- the horses know, deep inside the wild stallion that kicks and neighs.

That little beauty, holding her tiny hands up to pet the horse, is Voneda's granddaughter- my 2nd cousin, Leighton, and even though she never met her grandmother, I feel like when I'm around Lacey, Voneda is somewhere close by.