A foggy morning

This morning I woke up to this:

I love these rare cloudy mornings. They make me want to wrap up in a fur coat and go searching for talking beavers and centaurs. Alas, I had a lot of work to do this morning, so I settled for making tea with homemade gluten-free scones and lemon curd instead. 

Ten years ago my family lived in Austria for a summer while my dad worked on his dissertation. Our first morning there I awoke before everyone and ventured out of our suite and onto the grounds of the castle where we were staying. The sleepy rays of sun reached through the outlying forest and illuminated rows of rose bushes and patches of wild flowers. Mist hung over the gardens, shimmering in morning light. It thrilled me. I could have lived in that moment all day.

The quiet unfamiliarity of the fog this morning felt similar to that first morning in Austria somehow. It had me hankering for verdant hills, mountain air and really good chocolate. But since I couldn't teleport to the alps, I did the next best thing: milkmaid braids!

It dipped down into the 60s this morning, so I donned my extra warm Mountain Hardwear vest. Oh Orange County, you've made a wimp out of me.

Sorry for the blurry photo quality

My mom gave me milk maid braids for the first time on Midsummer's Eve in Austria. There were a number of Lithuanians also staying at the castle where we stayed who planned a series of Midsummer's Eve festivities, including a hayride through the alps, a treasure hunt, and a bonfire around which we danced the Lithuanian polka.

It was one of the better days of my life, and has cemented my desire to dance the Lithuanian polka at my wedding, should I get married. You guys, you have to learn the Lithuanian polka before you die. It's bouncy, flailing, fast and joyful. I think some scientist somewhere must have proven that doing doing the Lithuania polka will make you three times happier than you currently are.


Oh boy, I hope you had a happy Monday. And if your Monday royally stunk, then go close your shades and dance, just.like.this:

Happy (or, at the very least, bouncy) Monday, folkas! (When you've got polkas on the brain "folks" becomes "folkas").

-Sarah

© by scj