Spring is so often seen as a time of beauty, growth, and life. While this is certainly true, I think there's a sort of inherent struggle and darkness to this time of year. Growth always comes slower than we want, and there is an impatience and frustration in the days just before summer's lazy warmth. Clouds crest and scatter, taunting us with sun one moment and gloom the next. Hope and despair come easily, and in ever-changing shifts. Days I insist on filling run empty like a sieve, momentum swells only to slam against the wall. Victories are small, their joys fleeting. A warm patch of sun cannot overpower the constant chill of gusting wind. My mood refuses to equalize. A dress with pink flowers is stubbornly, unwaveringly optimistic.
American Rag cardigan, American Eagle dress, mom's old belt, Chinese Laundry shoes, purse available here