imagine ur living inside a tiny mushroom house... with a tiny chimney.... deep in the woods... no one knows u exist... u make soup in a tiny pot.....u are free

flowery tea ♡

going here would fix me actually

Forest of the Dwarfs in White Flowers by 春風

May, and among the miles of leafing, blossoms storm out of the darkness-windflowers and moccasin flowers. The bees dive into them and I too, to gather their spiritual honey. Mute and meek, yet theirs is the deepest certainty that this existence too this sense of well-being, the flourishing of the physical body—rides near the hub of the miracle that everything is a part of, is as good as a poem or a prayer, can also make luminous any dark place on earth.

my dad likes to call the stretches of time where you’re not creating “dreaming periods” and says that they’re meant to allow you to absorb all of the beauty, life, and inspiration from the things around you so that when you’re able to create again, you will have fanned your spark back into a flame. sometimes its hard to see those moments as anything but stagnation, but he always says that they’re natural and healthy and needed—things that should be embraced rather than feared.

I was born in the late nineteen hundreds