I am roasting pumpkin seeds in the oven. There are a ridiculous number of them, really (though I did only use half of those available!). Three baking sheets full of these tiny, flat, pale seeds that will go unseeded, becoming snacks for the co-workers who begged me to save them.  I don’t even like pumpkin seeds: it feels like I am chewing on a wooden skewer every time I pop one in my mouth. But they are in the oven anyways, an act of love, I suppose. Spicy, cheesy, and sweet. Each flavour a metaphor for the one from whom the request was made. Beautiful really.

A week ago today I turned 25. The age of feeling like an adult and needing some change in order to help the feeling be genuine. I had a wonderful birthday to usher in a new phase of my life, full of celebration, love, and joy. So far 25 has been lovely and I venture forward with confidence and excitement.

And I guess that is all I have to say unless you would like to read yet another post about my undying love for autumn in all its deadly beauty. Believe me…I could wax poetic on this subject for ages and probably will.

Krissy

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