Sunshine

 My very own Marilyn moment.

Top: Banana Republic

Skirt: Vince Camuto (via Nordstrom)

Tights: Trade Chic

Shoes: Born

Bag: Mitchell Leather (thrifted)

Headband: Nordstrom

Earrings: Random boutique in Rome

Those of you who live in perpetually or frequently sunny climes are probably like I used to be: either indifferent to the sunshine, or sick and tired of it. Depending upon the day, I think I probably fell into both categories when I lived in Colorado. 300+ days of sunshine was all I knew, all I had ever known. It was familiar and overrated, nothing at all like the romantic, infinitely more atmospheric (in my mind) Emerald City. It took nearly two full years of living in Seattle for me to truly begin to appreciate the sunshine -- to relish the feel of it on my skin, the reflection of it off the water, the smell of it.

I have yet to meet a group of people who revel in and appreciate the sunshine like Seattleites do. Every June, for example, the Summer Solstice bears witness to the aptly-named Solstice Parade in Seattle's quirky and artsy Fremont neighborhood. Characterized by rampant nudism, wild costumes, and an almost Bacchanalian abandon, it is a fascinating (and often times very, very amusing) study in cultural tradition and human interpersonal relationships.

I tend to enjoy the sunshine in a slightly less risque, but equally enjoyable way. Mr. CP and I like to walk to our neighborhood's garden on nearly every sunny day. It's only about a block away, and because the garden itself hosts a very large p-patch (tiny plots of land that anyone, provided they rent the space, can cultivate) it's always fun to see how peoples' crops are coming in. It also provides a nice quiet place to take photos. If you look closely in the first picture, you can see Mr. CP!