Springtime in Alabama...

I like to think that Spring is my favorite season in the South. The wild flowers and clover take over the land, and the temperatures are a mild 80 degrees. I like to think that this is the time of year to host garden cookouts and sit outside in the Adirondack chairs until the last bit of sunlight each day disappears later and later each day. But, see, here's the truth of it--I somehow forget, until Spring in the South is upon me again, that the entire season is a matter of dodging tornados and praying that your home and your loved ones are not destroyed by "the big one."

When I was a child, the excitement of hearing the sirens revving up, grabbing the candles and my favorite stuffed animal and running down to the dirt cellar of our 1916 Victorian house was thrilling! I'd curl up in my father's arms, my old-fashion cotton nightgown smudged with dirt and the sickly sweet smell of mildew in my nostrils. (I think my secret love of the faint scent of mildew reminds me of my childhood Springtime moments in that cellar.) I can't remember how my parents reacted to it. I can't remember if they were scared. I like to imagine they were cool and confident about the matter, not worrying about falling tree limbs and roofs being ripped from houses, and the insurance claims to be filed. I like to imagine that they were caught up with me and my sister in our primitive game in that dirt cellar with candles and old-fashion night gowns. In those times in the cellar, we only mattered to each other.

If you're truly from the South, your childhood memories are riddled with tales of that "big twister of year-such-n-such." I'm sitting here now, in this wild digital era (is that term outdated yet?), blogging to you while I watch the warnings and the skies gradually turn black. I'm watching the weather reports and the damage reports of my surrounding cities. It's heading this way. My home has no cellar and I'm not wearing any old-fashion nightgown. I'm hoping my husband gets home from work before it hits, and that my father's building in Cullman wasn't part of the damage I'm hearing about in the reports. They're telling me it's gonna hit Birmingham in nine minutes. I'm not as fatalistic as I was a few years ago, but I don't like NOT having a place to go hide. Give me a mildewy cellar in this Alabama Springtime.

I guess that's it for now. I've got to get my dogs on their leashes and go duck my head in my 2 square foot "hallway."

Springtime is here.

I'm back, like Bond.

Geeeeez. I disappeared again and am so sorry. Again. Things in life just keep getting crazier, and all I know to do is find a way to keep making it all work. Of course, now MY computer is on the fritz, leaving me to the mercy of my husband's schedule. Somehow I will find a way around this...

In other awesome news, the husband's show last weekend opening for the Avett Brothers at Sloss Furnace was an incredible time! There was a crowd of over 2,000 people who received him very well, and I had exclusive photo priveleges for the whole show! Go check out the photos, here.

I've also taken up playing music these days! I am teaching myself how to play bass for the all girl band I play with, Paperdolls. Go listen to our first demo over here. It is so much fun. We actually just had a photo shoot with Don Van Cleave, one of my favorite people and photographers ever. I can't wait to get the image files to show you guys!

Well, I guess when I spell it all out, I have more going on than I initially thought. Sometimes it is too easy to let yourself slip into the dark recesses of discontentment and kind of lose yourself and just go into emotional shutdown. I used to privately journal about this all the time. I finally took all the journals from age 8 to about 20 off of my bookshelf. While they hold the joys and dreams of a girl coming into herself, they also hold a lot of pain and sadness and, honestly, depression. I don't need that glaring down at me these days. Knowing they're boxed up kind of let me forget about that side of myself for a while. But the fact of the matter is, this is a part of who I am, a part of myself that I constantly have to renegotiate and while I want this space to be a source of inspiration, it's okay for me to share a little about it. Because most of us face it. If not every day, then at least once in a while. I'm working my way through it, and I feel like my emotional space kind of runs parallel to my blog space. You can all see where I am in the colors and images (and now, obviously, words) that I post here.

The best thing I know to do is to work through it. Because it's just too easy and so sad to just give in and just stop.

Anyway, I'm feeling the hintings of a little international mystery and great design. Penguin Books commissioned artist Michael Gillette to create 14 covers for Iam Fleming's Bond series, Centenary Edition collection. These books are simply GORGEOUS.

For more information on this limited edition series, check out the Official Penguin Blog, here. And also go check out the Penguin Books launch site for the books, here.

I hope you all have a blessed, wonderful day. See you tomorrow.