Being Human Is Exhausting So Be An Owl

By the window to the woods where the deer and creatures play, there is a girl - a dreamer of dreams with a whimsical heart. She lives there among her books and tea and a very small measure of heartbreak, loving illustration, pretty things, and falling asleep far, far into the night...

[squeakowl]

Video by Bea Lubas (source)

[oh-oh-wonder]

[rosieandthemoon]

By Ivan Trush

[its-where-the-wild-things-are]

[mournfulroses]

Anne Sexton, from a poem titled "The Fortress," featured in The Complete Poems of Anne Sexton

[huariqueje]

Unknown , Summer Road , Light Trap - Jeremy Miranda , 2026.

American , b. 1980 -

Acrylic on panel

[theorangepdf]

each summer has a different taste 

[expressions-of-nature]

by monoloium

[petaltexturedskies]

It was a summer evening; the sun was setting; the sky was blue still, but tinged with gold, as if a thin veil of gauze hung over it, and here and there in the gold-blue amplitude an island of cloud lay suspended.

Virginia Woolf, The Years

[damaged-donut]

[molly-bl00m]

amy friend

[edwardian-girl-next-door]

~ Florence Harrison, "Summer" from Christina Rossetti: Poems (1910)

via internet archive

[letsbelonelytogetherr]

— Robert Bly, In the Month of May (via letsbelonelytogetherr)

[youneedone2]

by duong quoc dinh 

[thoughtkick]

“Be the love you never received.”

— Rune Cazuli

[snakes-stims]

sunflower field

[mythologyofblue]

Summer for prose and lemons, for nakedness and languor, for the eternal idleness of the imagined return, for rare flutes and bare feet, and the August bedroom of tangled sheets and the Sunday salt, ah violin! When I press summer dusks together, it is a month of street accordions and sprinklers laying the dust, small shadows running from me. It is music opening and closing, Italia mia, on Bleecker, ciao, Antonio, and the water-cries of children tearing the rose-coloured sky in streams of paper; it is dusk in the nostrils and the smell of water down littered streets that lead you to no water, and gathering islands and lemons in the mind. There is the Hudson, like the sea aflame. I would undress you in the summer heat, and laugh and dry your damp flesh if you came.

-Derek Walcott, “Bleecker Street, Summer”