(I love her quilts so much I couldn't help but make a general call to one and all; I wanted to make connections and strike up conversations about art, beauty, imagination, inspiration and sharing. Now I feel a little self conscious, like a mediocre and loud street performer. Anyway, I will just carry on, while you look at the quilts. Be well.)
It's time for a summary of conditions here at
I have been returning to our private nature center, under the power lines, just passed the no trespassing sign on the high fence. The boys can ride their bikes there and I can push Maria and take pictures. The camera is still a complicated character, with a seemingly endless variety of options. I took far, far away pictures and found that I can get photographs of houses that are at least two miles away. It reminds me that we are losing our privacy in very many ways, and it makes me a little sad, because I don't feel quite as safe being weird in public. You never know when a goofy parking lot dance will end up on YouTube.
I've taken close up pictures of buckwheat and sage and some insects, and the rest of the nature in the easement is shrubs and dirt. There is also ice plant or pickle weed. Living in So Cal most of my life, pickle weed is as common as nail salons and cell phone kiosks; they don't inspire me to stop and admire. But I want to play with my camera, so I took a second look at a big anemone of a blossom sitting in a succulent, green pickle weed sea.
I regret that I had never before taken the time to appreciate the delicacy and beauty of the pickle weed blossom. Up close the flower is intricate and lovely. It is both bold and fragile, and reminded me of playing in tide pools, touching the outstretched petals of underwater life forms. I plan to go back today to see whether they have a detectable fragrance.
This is a weed, or as I have read it is also known as wild radish. I have pulled these up looking for the radish and found none. Either I pulled too soon or I read wrong. I will investigate further. The tiny hopper on the blossom doesn't seem to mind one way or another
I deleted the pictures of people's big houses taken from miles away. I kept this picture of the moon; also taken from miles away. I like that it's not perfectly focused. The colors are like a popsicle's melting and melding, romantically mingling in the evening sky. Makes me feel kissy and poetic.