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chlo halsey

@saltedarugula

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creative mish mash potato smash
@chlo.halsey 🌟
celtic flakey salt enthusiast
arugula lover 🫧🌱🐛

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there’s a lady bug
that lives
in my window sill
Some days, I wake
And it sits
on an open page
Left, from a promise keeper
The night before
I see his speckled shell
And the way he lands, on a praise
I wish ladybugs could read
I flip him off his back
And say goodbye
The odds looks less than promising
The next morning, I open my shades
And I see him, again
I’m glad, a pleasant joy,
I thought he was gone

I hope he’s not afraid of thunder
Or how the rain pats
I don’t know where I’ll find him next,
On brick, maybe mortar, a flower, my prayers
He likes to stay close
And listen to the sounds that wake us up by @saltedarugula

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2

a year ago

Today I came into work
I wasn’t scheduled till tomorrow
I thought of all the adventure I could have
The places I could see the sunrise
The way my coffee would taste at seven am in my home, rather than my place of work

What could I accomplish on this fine morning!
All the things off my to do list
The way my laundry could be finished
Before the birds began to chirp at my window

How I could sit alone
My whole house asleep
Just I
And the Lord

But rather than stay, awake in state of sleepy dysfunction
I got back in bed

I slept till the clock ticked eight
And then I slept some more
I dreamt of ski vacations
And a giant blimp balloon

I made a coffee close to twelve
And drank it, and as I wrote these stanzas
My rest was more important that my productivity

And I’m finding the Lord is doing much more in my sit
Slow
Not much done

Then my over use
Of time free
Turning into time, only serving a to do list
Of me by @saltedarugula

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2 years ago

On a good, sunny day
My bag, pink in its complete nature
Has contents of multicolored candy
This polish full of glittering bliss

On an astute Tuesday
I notice a blue glasses case
Containing
Its blue frames, in accordance

On joyous Sunday nights
Full of shouts and praise
I walk to a coffee shop
And pull out a metal tin of mint

I like how it clings and clangs at the rattle of a walk

On all other days
There’s a tied scarf
Too warm to wear now
Attached to this purposefully pink, not punk satchel

I tie it now, because our prayers have been answered
And spring is in fact near
Winter held much brightness
in its bag of color and stripes

I wonder what spring will contain in its bouncing by

Pep in its step
The birds waking me with their cheery tune
Stars around their heads I imagine
They watch the same bag jingle and jangle by @saltedarugula

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3

2 years ago

I reach around stars
As I grab for maple syrup
It’s for a coffee
Sitting, in a friends hand pulled mug

I feel a slight chill
coming from early spring whispers
I left the window open all night
Now, I must wipe down the dew drops on its sill

I enjoy simple unconvincing hints
That new life is a bloom
The steady slowness
The gentle pace, of slight inconvenience

I enjoy it much
The simple pleasures
Of slow by @saltedarugula

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2 years ago

I used let no one in,
to this garden in my mind
It was full of all my doubts and fears
The things that need refined

The entrance I just figured,
would open itself on my time
Once I had tended to its contents
Once I had made it what I liked

This gate was held with many briars
This lock, an old rusty key
Those that had been let in here
Jumped the fence, or climbed a tree

This garden had it’s steel closed gate,
With thorn surrounding walls
I figured it was too hard to enter
“Its better they never enter at all”

What if they didn’t like this garden!
What if isn’t what they want!
This was why I chose no entry
How silly to think those thoughts

I began to hear a voice far off
I began to hear Him call my name
I wouldn’t let Him in through the entrance
He talked through my walls all the same

He stands there outside my gate
He stands there calling wide
Telling me “I want to know you!”
Asking me “Can you let me inside?”

I sit in my garden
I’m surrounded by my thoughts
I chose to throw Him bits and pieces
But the entryway was still locked

Too much it seemed to let one in
Too much it seemed to be set free
But what is this, what is this!
He’s standing there in the tree!

A tree that sits outside my gate
Of the garden, in my mind
He called Himself the Gardener
He says that it is time

He said it’s time to open the gate
He said it time to be set free
He tells me there’s no thorn or briar
He wouldn’t endure for me

He says there is a place
In this garden in my mind
That those around can be let in
Without me choosing what they’ll find

He tells me they have love
He tells me they have trust
He tells me He can weed the entrance
He’ll clear away all the dust

It’s been some time since then,
since He called me out by name
When He asked be let in
I’ve never been the same

When I saw him in my garden
I realized, He’s my friend
The one I knew by voice not touch
The one that asked to be let in

The one I threw a bit or piece
The one I cried with through my walls
He was the Gardener
The one that I needed
The one that wanted no separation at all

Now I sit with open gates
Whomever comes, can be let in
My garden now is not tended by me
Its tended by my Gardener friend taken in The Secret Garden by @saltedarugula

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2 years ago

This is the winter truth

I had chosen winter as my favorite song
It lacked a chorus but had a strong lead
It was harsh and brutal
It told truth and cut with ice
I liked it that way

The past few days I have began to
Grow into this understanding
That maybe I prefer, Spring

To leave a second job well past sundown
On a rainy winters eve,
It leaves a much different taste on the palate
Than its sunny warm breezed companion

I found my self begin to idolize this warm lived life
Not a sin, just a thought

I found my thoughts in pit falls of hierarchy of a later season
One that is delightful in its ease, in its bliss, in its birth

But there is a majesty
About this cold season
And it comes
When I see the, Snow

All it took,
Was a snowfall
the height of a warm biscuit
To lull me back into the contented bliss that winter can bring

If you let it

move with her pace
stop resenting the pull back to your resting place

Ive been fighting her slow moving evenings
Her need for a clock ticks extra minutes in the morning

Ive now, in her latest display of glory
Been reminded why I love this season of endurance

The pain
The discomfort
The unrest and dissatisfaction
Is it all worth it
When you see the glory

Not what its birthing
when spring comes near
Not what it cherishes
in holiday wonder

But the bare, raw, existence of winter
It is glorious
When you see, it reaps, Snow by @saltedarugula

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2 years ago

On January 2nd of 25’ I sat in a coffee shop not built this same day last year
With friends unbeknownst to me a year and four days ago
Now two will be in my wedding
I chose a drip coffee with cream, that hasn’t changed
I think the cream is a treat for the year ahead
Some lightness for the road presented
My nails are short now, with clear sparkles
This began shortly after a stay in the peach state that I do love and adore
Where I ditched some black polish I clinged to and began to try the lighter life
One of sparkles and confetti on floors
Where pour overs rule the am’s and homemade biscuits are brought to gathering places
Near and far
I chose an orange knit scarf to warm my bare neck on this fine New Years morning
Last year this became my favorite color
I have since switched it to lime green
Next year will that adorn my neck for the chilly winter months?
(I sit with a green blanket and bible and notebook as I write)
So much has been gained, and so much has been given
But the gain is not of my own doing
And the giving is necessary in this walk in which we stroll with the Lord
I think my nails will be short for a while now
Hopefully forever
I prefer the simplicity
I believe black polish is in my past
It covers too much light
I much prefer the light now
Simple and light, in it and through it
I have learned the Fathers heart for simple love,
And beautiful,
Lovely,
Light!
I like to join him in loving these things
A simple life, full of unending light by @saltedarugula

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2 years ago

I called this place home for a little while,
My house more like it

I have a friend that moved from the peach state to our chilly town by the river up north,
She called her dwelling place home from the moment she landed there,
how kind

I wouldn’t call this place home,
To be honest I would only ever call it house

I shed many tears there,
Sat with indecision and feeling like I had no good answers to the question of “what are you doing with your future”

I woke and I rested and I found calm in making a moka pot coffee on an old electric stove

I prayed for sunlight in the morning hours to gaze at steam off my boiling water

I tied shirt hems to door locks and I put baby shower invites in my window sill

I kept a flower alive for the first time,
I had to leave her on the curb when I moved

I needed comfort and rest in this place I called house for a little while, but I found home in many other places, north and south, warm and cold

Homes of friends and soup and cornbread to match a chilly winters breeze

I found home in a consistent crying out deep to deep from a wooden floor id lay on and sleep on and paint on and fold cotton shirts on

I found home in my Father who I needed day in and day out, and while I would not say that rest marked that house, knowledge of it was found there and understanding of it was experienced in our rest filled Father

I’ll never live there again, or hear the cars driving by just past midnight, but what I found there was a dependency on the God whom I love

To cry out to him is a privilege, and that is comfort itself,
every tear he collected, he also wiped away

My home, the man Jesus ⭐️ by @saltedarugula

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2 years ago

I often feel inspired by the slightly surreal yet completely plausible

For what is beauty to be but creation not yet held in our human hands

It’s a privilege to create

In tandem with the Spirit of a Holy Creator

Holy, Spirit, one with the Father, so creator in the fullest, living in us

How could we not make with wonder and pursuit of glory revealed

Not to be taken or cultivated by mere human ambition, but to be received and treasured by the gift that is human hands making art here on earth

To make art, to create beauty, with the Spirit of God

It is blessing immeasurable by @saltedarugula

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2 years ago