“Remember there’s no such thing as a small act of kindness. Every act creates a ripple with no logical end.” — Scott Adams
Every year around this time, heart-shaped candies and bouquets of red roses adorn the aisle ways of grocery stores and phrases like “Be Mine” are displayed in shop windows everywhere we look.
And every year around this time, we begin our search for the perfect gift to present to a loved one as a sign of affection because it’s Valentine’s Day. That’s what February 14th is all about, right?
Have you ever dreamed of having one of your photographs featured on the cover of Bella Grace? Well, now’s your chance. We’re currently looking for the cover of our summer 2017 issue and we want your help!
If you have a picture that you think perfectly captures the “Bella Grace spirit,” or know someone who does, you won’t want to miss out on this great opportunity.
I don’t know if I’ve ever met someone who likes Mondays. If you do, hats off to you, but I think you’re one of the very few. My favorite day of the week is Thursday, but that’s a story for another day.
Most Mondays I wake up exhausted after a fitful night’s sleep. I always seem to have trouble turning my brain off on Sunday nights and do more tossing and turning than anything else. I also usually spend any free time I have on Monday running errands I didn’t get to over the weekend. It’s not a great way to start the week, so I’ve recently started a Monday night ritual that helps me settle a little better into the workweek.
Some of my best ideas found me when I wasn’t looking.
A song on the radio, walks through glistening snow, and early morning coffee runs are a few places that have sparked beautiful ideas. I remember visiting a local cafe and looking in admiration at the intricate handwriting on the chalkboard menu. A few moments later, I took a picture so I wouldn’t forget as the day passed by.
Perhaps it is the glossy pictures in magazines or the romantic gondola rides featured in films that romanticise Venice. Yet, as I meandered across the canals of the city of water, I struggled to find the romance or beauty in the maze of streets.
So, on my second night in Venice while the setting sun drew in to the clouds overhead, I entered St. Mark’s square. I nurtured the hope of drawing away from the bustling tourist-packed passageways that ran like veins through the city.