It may not seem like much, but these are the things that make me feel alive and rooted in something. These are the things that make me want to write.

I have been intensely stressed out, mostly in the name of bridesmaid dresses and perfect invitation wording and the outrageous cost of rented chairs. And planning to move. That too. We found a place that’s perfect for us, for now, adjacent to a beautiful park with a lake in the not-too-distant suburbs with more than twice as much space as we have now (Did you know that we’ve been living in a 480-square-foot apartment? I didn’t.), a den to use as  an office, and a private balcony with a view of trees and grass instead of a busy street. And — this was important — next spring, we can get a dog.

So I’m alive, and busy, and happy (if tense). And I’ve been thinking about writing, I swear: I even took a beautiful weekly photograph two weeks ago. I’m just a little wrapped up right now. It’ll pass.

I didn’t realize until after I’d finished taking my pictures that I was crouched in front of a large window and being watched by a woman working inside the church. As soon as she saw that I’d noticed her, she gave me a huge wave with her whole arm, and I waved back before walking on. So between the walk, the sunny little flowers, and the neighborly encounter, my hard little heart started to soften that day.

But that was a week ago, and I’ve barely been outside since. Even though I know exactly why and to what degree a walk will do me good, I can’t seem to make it a priority. I blame it on the way I write: I spend the majority of any writing day sitting at the computer, waiting for the words to arrive. If I let my attention find other topics (which happens more often now that I’m in the thick, hazy midst of planning a wedding) or leave my chair for any reason, I may miss my date with the words.

It’s also inconvenient that if I want to go outside, I have to put on real pants.

I’m not giving up on this idea, though. I’ve never considered myself an indoor girl; I’m naturally happier outside. That should be motivation enough to get past the hurdles laid out by my work and the uninviting view from my windows. But I think I need to finish giving myself permission to walk away from the work and the view more often. In the meantime, we may have to settle for a Photograph Every Ten Days or So.

Last Thursday, I stopped thinking about flowers and bridesmaid dresses long enough to dye Easter eggs with my future sister-in-law and her two oldest kids, and we had a very good (albeit messy) time. Holidays are one of the reasons I want to eventually have kids of my own, but for now it’s completely sufficient to borrow someone else’s for a few hours.

I took this picture a few weeks ago, when the city finally started to reemerge from its thick layers of ice and snow. Eric and I walked around the perimeter of a nearby college campus that sits by the Mississippi River, and I discovered that we live in the worst part of a very nice area. I knew that already, kind of; our street is home to hundreds of college students and businesses whereas the street a block north is defined by the biggest, most architecturally jaw-dropping houses in the city. But I’m not talking about socioeconomic gradients. I’m talking about nature.

For months, I’ve been whining about living in the city because there’s no apparent end to the concrete and brick and people. Tree branches are cut lest they tangle with power lines or pedestrians, and the wildlife has been whittled down to squirrels, sparrows, and rabbits that somehow develop dreadlocks. But on that walk a few weeks ago, a hawk flew just a few feet over my head, and we found large tufts of rabbit fur in the melting snow. We also found a potato on a bus stop bench, and there were still people everywhere, so my desire to live a little farther away from it all remains unchanged. But I’m here now, and if I’m not going to lose my mind over it, I need to get out and explore these relatively quiet, relatively wild places on a regular basis.

To help keep me accountable to this promise I’ve made myself, I’m going to add another regular feature to this blog: a weekly photograph. I’m hoping that by committing myself to photography, I’ll also be committing myself to a search for experiences worth photographing and writing about, and in turn to a purer enjoyment of my life here.

Actually, I’m hoping you won’t hold me entirely responsible for this last lapse. I started to write something a week ago, but I didn’t have time to do much with it when the inspiration struck, and every time I sat down thereafter to work on it, I felt guilty about doing that instead of finishing the Get Rid of Things article I started a month ago or doing the final grading for my class. It was just an abnormally busy week, and when I can’t give my mind over to what I’m writing, the product usually isn’t worth reading.

I’m relatively relaxed at the moment, however, because Eric and I just returned home after a couple of days at his parents’ house, where we ate unlikely quantities of food, drank in surprising moderation, and played some silly games. The chief purpose of our visit, however, was this:

Audrey Doris. A girl baby. Her daddy is Eric’s youngest brother, Joe, and she is our very first niece. We have five nephews, so a baby with a bow on her head is a novelty.

Of course, it’s always nice to see Katie, too: