It’s starting to look the way I hoped it would. I drew inspiration from Stranger Things and Neil Young and his harvest moon and desert roads and skies. I wanted it to feel like us, lived-in and approachable, to serve us for a long time coming, and be able to pack a punch or take a beating or maybe even both. I became less concerned that it would be well-received, instead, that it was a place where we fit. We held ourselves to the standards we’ve set, but let the process be the process, which is naturally and beautifully imperfect. This build wears the stress of itself, and it wears our struggle and tears and blood and breath. It is unlike anything we’ve done before and everything too, a gathering of all we’ve learned and the bits of earth we love, the places we’ve been and the things we’ve discovered about self, and the years of the growing pains of this work we are doing, the work of not giving up. It is like Louise, in that she was for no one but us, and for a travelin’ dream of two Kentucky women nearly five years past, who were then unknown and untested and wide eyed and hopeful for all that we didn’t yet know we’d face, but now our Hawk home holds all the strength and all the story. It is the round peg, round hole we’ve been waiting and working for, and home and it’s power to make us, to soothe us, to give us calm and respite, is not lost on us at all. It is more than tile choices and faucets and fabrics and befores-and-afters, it is where we do our truest living and truest dreaming-bigs, where we lean into one another and the honest conversations that change us, and where we fight and kiss and sleep and wake and raise babies and reprimand puppies, and for us, the very best of it all, we built it out over four wheels, and we can hitch it up and roll it down the highway, bound for nowhere and everywhere too.

birchandpineさん(@birchandpine)が投稿した動画 -

Kate Oliverのインスタグラム(birchandpine) - 5月29日 01時42分


It’s starting to look the way I hoped it would. I drew inspiration from Stranger Things and Neil Young and his harvest moon and desert roads and skies. I wanted it to feel like us, lived-in and approachable, to serve us for a long time coming, and be able to pack a punch or take a beating or maybe even both. I became less concerned that it would be well-received, instead, that it was a place where we fit. We held ourselves to the standards we’ve set, but let the process be the process, which is naturally and beautifully imperfect. This build wears the stress of itself, and it wears our struggle and tears and blood and breath. It is unlike anything we’ve done before and everything too, a gathering of all we’ve learned and the bits of earth we love, the places we’ve been and the things we’ve discovered about self, and the years of the growing pains of this work we are doing, the work of not giving up. It is like Louise, in that she was for no one but us, and for a travelin’ dream of two Kentucky women nearly five years past, who were then unknown and untested and wide eyed and hopeful for all that we didn’t yet know we’d face, but now our Hawk home holds all the strength and all the story. It is the round peg, round hole we’ve been waiting and working for, and home and it’s power to make us, to soothe us, to give us calm and respite, is not lost on us at all. It is more than tile choices and faucets and fabrics and befores-and-afters, it is where we do our truest living and truest dreaming-bigs, where we lean into one another and the honest conversations that change us, and where we fight and kiss and sleep and wake and raise babies and reprimand puppies, and for us, the very best of it all, we built it out over four wheels, and we can hitch it up and roll it down the highway, bound for nowhere and everywhere too.


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