betweenbranches | Recent Entries

I’ve started and deleted this post more times than I can count.
It’s hard to explain yourself without sounding like you’re auditioning to be interesting.

The short version:
I’m Lydia. Thirty years old. Born on Boxing Day, 1994.
I was adopted as a baby.
I live in Bristol now, in a flat just big enough for me, too many books, and a stubborn spider plant that refuses to die.

The longer version is what this blog is for.

I called it Between Branches because that’s where I’ve always lived — in the space between family trees.
Two sets of roots: one I grew up with, one I don’t fully know.
The trouble is, no one tells you what to do with that in-between space. Do you pick a side? Grow a new tree from scratch? Pretend you’re not balanced on a branch, looking both ways?

This won’t be only about adoption.
Some days I’ll write about identity or belonging.
Other days it’ll be about the perfect oat latte at the café down the street, or a line from a film that stuck in my head, or a train ride through misty hills that felt like coming home to somewhere I’ve never lived.

Dreamwidth feels right for this. A little slower. A little more human than the rest of the internet.
No algorithms. No endless scroll. Just a small corner where words can take their time.

If you’ve found your way here, welcome.
I don’t know exactly where we’re going, but you’re welcome to walk with me

— Lydia

Current Mood: thoughtful
Current Music: Like Real People Do — Hozier

It was tucked between two battered travel guides — Europe on £10 a Day (1974) and a dog-eared AA Road Atlas.

A square photograph, sun-faded at the edges: a family of four at the seaside, the father in dark sunglasses, the mother in a floral dress, two children squinting into the light. Behind them, a strip of grey-blue sea and a row of beach huts painted in candy colours.

No names, no date. Only the glossy surface and the faint smell of dust.

I bought it for 50p and carried it home in the pocket of my raincoat. Now it sits propped on my desk, watching me work.

I don’t know who they are. But I think the boy might have grown up to become a painter, and the girl perhaps writes postcards she never sends.

What do you think their story is?

Current Music: Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa - Vampire Weekend

The calendar has tipped over into August, which feels like sitting on the porch in the late afternoon — too warm to hurry, but too early to light the lanterns.

This month, I want to keep things gentle. Slow-brewing tea, slow-turning pages, slow walks under the trees where the shade feels like a different season. But I also know that without a few little signposts, I tend to drift. So — goals.

📚 Reading:

Finish A House with Good Bones by T. Kingfisher (loving it so far).
Start The Elementals by Michael McDowell — it feels like the right kind of humid gothic for August.
Revisit one Shirley Jackson short story and really savour it.

🖋 Writing & Creative:

Post at least twice a week here on Dreamwidth — one reflective, one fun (thinking maybe a tag game).
Work on that short piece about the abandoned greenhouse.

🏡 Home & Life:

Clear out one bookshelf and donate what I won’t reread.
Try a new bread recipe — preferably something crusty and fragrant.
Take a walk at dusk at least once a week, no phone, just listening.

💡 Mood for August:
Soft edges, cool drinks, and letting things ripen in their own time.

If I manage half of this list, I’ll count it as a win. After all, August is for ripening, not rushing.

Current Mood: recumbent
Current Music: Jericho - Jace Everett

Between Branches

Writing the Found Life

Recent Entries

Sticky: Between Branches — An Introduction

Found Things #1: A Photograph in a Charity Shop

August Goals - Steeping Slowly