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Fond of Fronds

This week I've been relentlessly doodling leaves, limbs and fronds.

Marrying a fisherman changed me.

 

I find myself driving over a bridge and slow to look at the water level and clarity below. I march through a field fearlessly in my chacos. I tip my chin towards the sun, leaning back in my camp chair, breathing in that dewy, sweet air of outdoor mornings and loving it. I wear baseball caps as an accessory and buy pants that fit over my felt bottom boots.
(Sometimes I don't recognize myself. But that's me below. In a hat and a shirt Bindi Irwin probably wears in the outback.)

I'm fond of the fronds.