I enjoy sitting on the porch watching the crows eating apples off my daddy’s apple trees.
They knock them down to the ground. Then they hold the apple with one foot and peck it into pieces.
One crow actually throws them down on the asphalt so the apples break into pieces. These pieces are snatched up by some noisy smaller crows which I suppose are her offspring.
The crows aren’t the only ones enjoying Daddy’s apples.
There is a lot to watch from this porch on the mountain.
FLOW
I was quietly perusing the art exhibits at a local museum when I turned a corner to find a big pile of rocks in the floor.There was a short little fence around them.
The fence was not just to keep visitors from stumbling over them, it was also to keep them from touching them. They were beautiful and textured in various sizes. The urge to pick them up was strong.
These weren’t just any rocks. These were river rock replicas made of glass by Sarah Vaughn. They looked so real, like a pile of favorite rocks on the northern shores of the Pacific.
In addition to the pile on the floor there was a long line of rocks made of wool. The artist made one every day during the Covid Lockdown. Some were lovely while others were little angry wads. I understood those.
Then there was a table with a circle of dtones that had been broken and lost a part. Sarah had carefully mended each stone to be whole again. It reminded me of Shel Silverstein’s book The Missing Piece in which the broken character travels looking for its missing part until it realizes the experiences made it feel completed.
I spent some quiet time in that room full of the smoothed stones that Sarah made. Her skill is amazing. The stones spoke of transformation by time.
Just WOW!
FLOW
I found this book on a bench in an art museum: The Secret Lives of Color by Kassia St.Clair.
I have always felt that my color vocabulary was lacking. This little treasure should help.
The side of the book looks like a rainbow. Each color section has various hues listed.
Who knew there were so many purples. Each one has several pages of history and descriptions in how the hue was made.
I will be ready to better describe my next red flower, now that Kassia has provided the accurate term for it.
I will post on rocks in the art museum next.
FLOW
We have some new visitors in the yard. We have been enjoying watching them picking figs from our big fig tree. We can see the show from our deck.
The baby raccoon did not stop picking and eating while I stood below taking photos.
The two larger raccoons climbed as high as they could when they saw us coming. One climbed over into the dogwood.
The other was in the top of the fig peeking around at me.
I look forward to watching these three acrobats eating figs every evening until they are all gone.
FLOW
I have spent today in the clouds. There have been times when I could not see the houses across the street.
It is misty and cool. I sit on the porch hearing birds I cannot see. I hear water dropping from the trees. It may be rain or just leaves dripping.
There is something cozy about being socked in with sights veiled and sounds muffled.
The webs are full of diamonds from the clouds.
What a gorgeous day!
FLOW
One of the happiest parts of my childhood was spent in Santa Monica, California. My father was sent there for some training, so we went with him. We lived in a magical place, the Embassy Hotel and Apartments. It is now called the Palihouse. This complex is Spanish colonial revival style with stucco walls and a red tile roof.
The courtyard was full of exotic plants. We loved walking through this space that felt like a jungle. Our apartment was on the second floor with a balcony facing the ocean.
My son went back there today. He stood on the steps where my sister and I stood over fifty years ago. He and his friend walked along that same path to the front door.
I always dreamed of returning there, but having my son there seems even more thrilling. My heart is full of gratitude that both he and I got to be in this same magical space at different times. That is what time does. It circles back to what was loved most.
What a wonderful thing!
https://smconservancy.org/property/embassy-hotel-apartments/
FLOWER
When I meet me again
I will know me by my smile
and the glint in my eye
as I look at myself.
No matter the hair nor the clothing.
Old goes, new comes
but I will remain true
to who I was
and what I loved.
It will be me I see
whole and free.
FLOW
I love lantana because butterflies love it and deer do not. This little annual has been producing blooms since it was put in the ground in June.
It has been the main attraction for a blue pipevine swallowtail butterfly today. The butterfly was too busy eating to notice me taking its photograph.
I appreciate any easy plant that blooms without work from me. This lovely butterfly is a beautiful bonus.
FLOW
I spotted these ghostly wildflowers during my wanderings in the mountains. They are tiny white parasites. They look like fungi, but are really non-photosynthetic plants.
Indian Pipes do not contain chlorophyll, so they must mooch off fungi that mooch off of tree roots. They are waxy white and do look ghostly.
There were many groups of Monotropa uniflora in the shade under some trees. They grow where the fungus and tree roots grow that supporr them. I am glad I spotted these unusual wildflowers.
FLOW
