A while back a neighbor was tossing out a few orchid plants that she thought were dead or dying. I rescued them, gave them love, and patiently waited.
I’ve been rewarded with not one, but two of them throwing spikes and blooming at the same time!
Photo by Enchanted Seashells
Best of all, they’re one of the few flowers that don’t trigger my allergies!
Photo by Enchanted Seashells
Slightly different shades of fuchsia bring joy.
Photo by Enchanted Seashells
I don’t know why anyone would discard an orchid; they’re not that difficult to maintain and there’s immense satisfaction when they rebloom.
I found an obscure poem about orchids by José Santos Chocano, written in the 1920s:
The Orchids
Freaks of bright crystal, airy beauties fair, Whose enigmatic forms amaze the eye— Crowns fit to deck Apollo’s brows on high, Adornments meet for halls of splendor rare! They spring from knots in tree-trunks, rising there In sweet gradation; winding wondrously, They twist their serpent stems, and far and nigh Hang overhead like wingless birds in air.
Lonely, like pensive heads, all fetterless. Lofty and free they bloom; by no dull chain Their flowers to any tyrant root are bound; Because they too, at war with pettiness, Desire to live, like souls that know no stain, Without one touch of contact with the ground.
Have you ever experienced the feeling that you had a fever but you actually did NOT?
Somehow, as careful as I am, I got sick. It started with heavy congestion and a headache along with a low grade fever, then it spiked to 101.5 as all the other aches and pains descended upon my body.
After a couple of days of not getting any worse, I decided that I didn’t need to see a doc because my lungs were OK and that probably meant that it was a virus and not a secondary bacterial infection that would necessitate antibiotics as I’m prone to pneumonia.
I can see the light at the end of the tunnel, except for a cough and this annoying feeling that I have a fever but the thermometer says otherwise. I think I would be feeling a lot worse if I hadn’t been vaccinated for Covid and the flu, so I’m grateful for that. Ginger tea and Tylenol seem to help.
At the same time, my indoor plants are inundated with fungus gnats. They’re joyfully procreating and multiplying and are SO annoying. I sprayed the soil with a hydrogen peroxide solution that’s supposed to help–fingers crossed that it actually does. I’ve never had an infestation this severe and I’m not really happy about it.
If that wasn’t enough to put me in a foul mood, neighbors decided to build an absolute monstrosity of a remodel that looks more like an apartment building as it looms over my house. The construction noise has been ongoing for MONTHS and right now I’m listening to incessant sawing and hammering and nail guns along with an air compressor that goes off and on, off and on, off and on.
Closing the windows doesn’t do anything to muffle the noise and that’s almost impossible to do as temps are consistently in the 70s, so I suffer either way. When people drive or walk by, they look up at the giant structure and shake their heads, so I know it’s not just me.
Because of the way the wind blows (literally), all the sawdust and other building detritus comes my way so the side of my house was covered in sawdust, along with nails and paper from the insulation. I asked the neighbors to let their construction people know about it so they could clean it up and that didn’t happen so I sent them some pics and again asked to have something done about it, which they finally did about a month later.
Is there a real pervasive lack of basic courtesy and consideration nowadays, or am I the only one who thinks that?
Does everyone live in their own little bubble and not comprehend–or care — how their actions might affect others? Was I unreasonable to expect them to (promptly) clear away their construction mess? It’s definitely NOT my job to clean up after them and you can’t tell me that they didn’t look down from the scaffolding and see what was going on below them. Yes, SCAFFOLDING, because, like I said, it’s a huge, multi-story monstrosity.
Anyway…
I can’t take it much longer…I think I might have to scream into a pillow. SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUP!
Apparently, the world did not yet end and we’re still here.
Please take a moment to stop doom scrolling and enjoy these gorgeous pics my son snapped of springtime around his ‘hood in the Pacific Northwest.
I asked him to take photos of the famous cherry blossoms at University of Washington but he said it was so packed with tourists that he avoids the area when he teaches, even though his office is near the Quad.
Olympic Mountains
Heavily loaded container ship west of Shilshole Bay Marina in Puget Sound.
Claude Russell Bridges (Leon Russell) would be eighty-four years old today and sadly, while he’s no longer here, it’s a good time to remember him through his musical genius. He was a gifted pianist, songwriter, arranger, bandleader, and producer–a visionary.
His beauty shines through, no matter his age.
This is a brief compilation of some of his water themed recordings:
Back To The Island (Leon Russell’s creation, NOT Jimmy Buffet)
Did you attend a #NoKings event in your area? In my little beachy town, I heard there were 15,000+ attendees, which is amazing. I wish I could have been there but I wasn’t feeling great; hopefully it’s just seasonal allergies and nothing more serious, so I didn’t go this time.
I still can’t wrap my head around where we are in this country; how our liberties are being decimated and the rights of women are becoming more and more non-existent, almost to the brutal point of Sharia Law extremism, and there doesn’t seem to be a solution or an end to the loss of democracy–or any adherence to the rule of law.
Even though I’m not at all mainstream religious and never have been, there’s a certain yearning to search for a rational reason to explain a deep sense of foreboding and the meaning of this unholy collective evil, like why is this universal dark night of the soul happening NOW? Is Wetikoan answer to the question?
So… it’s time for a little Leon Russell. If you know, you know.
One does not simply “listen to” or “hear” Leon’s music, it’s something you FEEL, deep in your soul on a cellular level. And THAT is the essence of faith, right?
He is SO beautiful…those eyes! The camera certainly loves him, too… the closeups are so CLOSE, lol.
There was a mysterious blackout in SoCal Thursday night, from North San Diego County all the way up to Orange County. More than 100,00 people unexpectedly lost power at around 7:40 p.m.
The electric company simply said it was “under investigation” with no reported reason for the outage.
Of course, there are lots of theories floating around on social media, including an attack on our power grid or an EMP (ElectroMagnetic Pulse), which is a sudden burst of energy that disrupts or destroys electronics.
“A high-altitude EMP attack could paralyze the power grid and communications”.
From Reddit: “Most likely someone hacked into the control/management system and brought down the entire system from northern San Diego to South OC.”
State officials, including Governor Gavin Newsom, have not issued any statements regarding the incident, more than 12 hours after two of California's most populous areas lost power - which is home to more than six million people. Moreover, the state's Office of Emergency Services did not even acknowledge a large-scale blackout had taken place, with the agency's website and social media accounts making no mention of the incident as of Friday morning. Despite the complete absence of communication from state officials, residents in the blackout zone captured frightening video of drivers speeding along pitch-black roads with no traffic lights or street lamps working. 'California is having a night straight out of a disaster movie,' one person said on social media. --Daily Mail
It’s a good thing I have so many candles; it was actually quite lovely to sit in silence and flickering candlelight until, suddenly, without warning, the power came back on.
Here’s the meaningless word salad response from the electric company: “Early information indicates the event originated on the regional transmission system, which serves multiple communities across SDG&E’s service area. In response to grid conditions, built-in safety measures briefly interrupted service to help protect the larger electric grid.
We are supporting the California Independent System Operator, which manages the state’s electric grid, in their review of system performance. We know outages are disruptive, and the safety of our customers, employees, and communities remains our top priority.”
None of that really answers any of our questions, and as I wonder what the REAL story is, I suggest that we all stock up on candles and generators and power banks, just to be prepared for any future eventuality.
As someone who loves shiny, glittery things, I always wondered if there was a specific term to describe the sun’s sparkles on the ocean, and I discovered that there is, and it’s adorable!
The proper technical and descriptive term for sun sparkles on water is sun glitter or sun glint.
This phenomenon occurs when sunlight reflects off wind-rippled water waves, creating a shifting, bright path of individual glints known as a “glitter pattern”.
Photo by Enchanted Seashells
I love to be at the beach on a hot summery day, taking pictures of sun glitter.
…and an interesting and coincidental fact about (of course) Leon Russell.
Eleven years before there was even a hint of a thought about any baby, even one as wonderful as Angel Boy, Leon Russell released his self-titled debut solo album on March 23, 1970.
The album featured the classics: Delta Lady, Dixie Lullaby, A Song For You, Hummingbird, and Prince of Peace.
Leon played piano, guitar, bass guitar, and vocals. He was backed by an impressive list of friends, including Klaus Voormann, Mick Jagger, George Harrison, Ringo Starr, Alan Spenner, Charlie Watts, Bill Wyman, Delaney Bramlett, Eric Clapton, Jim Horn, Bonnie Bramlett, Steve Winwood, Jim Gordon, Chris Stainton, B.J. Wilson, Joe Cocker, and Merry Clayton.
What was I doing on March 23, 1970? I was in high school and I’m sure I bought that album as soon as it came out, probably at The Wherehouse or Licorice Pizza, two cool record stores that no longer exist.
He’s still the same person he’s always been; a voracious reader and writer, loves to garden, is kind to animals. He’s got a wicked sense of humor, and now that he’s a dad, he skateboards with the Angel Kids and finally realizes why I worried so much about his safety.
Could he really be all grown up? Nah, he’ll always be my Angel Boy and I’ll always be the proud Boy Mom.
There’s still too much ugliness in this world, so I’m going to keep my rosebud colored glasses on a bit longer…
When I realize how many songs Leon Russell contributed his magic to, how he was the secret ingredient in hundreds of popular tunes, I am continually in awe and amazed.
My mom and I used to listen and sing along to all of Gary Lewis & The Playboys songs. We loved the perfect piano playing and we never knew it was Leon. We didn’t have a CLUE but what we did sense was that whoever played the piano was special and magical. It wouldn’t be the same WITHOUT Leon’s contributions– as arranger AND pianist.
Gary Lewis once said that eighty percent of his success was due to Leon, but I believe it’s closer to one hundred percent. If you take away the piano, you’re left with nothing special.
Leon morphed from this uber quiet, short-haired clean-cut session keyboardist to the coolest longhaired sunglass-wearing sexy visionary like a butterfly bursting out of a cocoon. The magic was always inside of him.
I didn’t write the following, but it’s worth sharing. (I did however, edit it a bit.)
If you listened to pop music in the 1960s, you heard Leon Russell play. You just didn’t know it.
That piano on the Ronettes’ “Be My Baby”? Leon Russell. The Byrds’ early records? Leon Russell. Beach Boys sessions? Leon Russell. Phil Spector’s legendary “Wall of Sound” productions? Leon Russell was there, in a suit and tie, hair neatly trimmed, playing whatever was needed, and here with the Monkees.
For nearly a decade, Leon was one of the most sought-after session musicians in Los Angeles. Producers loved him because he could play anything—rock, jazz, country, blues, gospel. You could hum a melody and he’d give you the perfect piano part. You could describe a feeling and he’d translate it into music.
Producer Snuff Garrett said, “I could talk style with him and he’d do it. I’d name a record and go, ‘I like the piano on this…’ and he’d go, ‘Okay,’ and play it.”
Leon Russell was on hundreds of hit records. He was the secret ingredient in countless songs you’ve heard a thousand times.
And for years, almost no one knew his name.
Leon was born Claude Russell Bridges in 1942 in Lawton, Oklahoma with a birth injury (cerebral palsy on the right side) and began playing classical piano at age four. By fourteen, he was sneaking into Tulsa nightclubs with a fake ID, playing backup for Jerry Lee Lewis.
The fake ID belonged to a friend. The name on it was “Leon.” He kept it.
At seventeen, Leon moved to Los Angeles to chase his dream of making it in music. He studied guitar with James Burton, one of the best session players in the business. He worked constantly—sessions during the day, clubs at night, whatever paid.
And he was good. So good that by his early twenties, Leon Russell was playing on some of the biggest records of the decade.
He backed the Ronettes, the Crystals, Darlene Love. He played on Phil Spector’s famous Christmas album in 1963. He worked with the Byrds, Gary Lewis & the Playboys, Herb Alpert & the Tijuana Brass, the Beach Boys, the Ventures, Jan and Dean.
Herb Alpert later recalled that Leon would sit at the piano and say, “I don’t know what to play.” Then he’d “chime in with something special and affect the groove in a very Leon Russell way that was always unique.”
For years, Leon was brilliant, versatile, and completely invisible. A studio ghost. The guy in the suit playing piano while someone else got famous.
Then in the late 1960s, something changed.
Leon grew his hair long. He stopped wearing suits. He gathered a commune of musicians around him in the Hollywood Hills.
He stopped being the anonymous session player and started becoming Leon Russell—the artist–The Master of Space and Time.
In 1970, everything exploded at once.
Leon released his first solo album, simply titled Leon Russell. The musicians backing him? Eric Clapton. Ringo Starr. George Harrison. Not exactly unknown names.
That same year, he organized Joe Cocker’s legendary Mad Dogs & Englishmen tour—a massive, chaotic traveling circus of forty-plus musicians, complete with a full horn section, backup singers, and absolute mayhem. It was revolutionary. The tour became the stuff of legend, and Leon was the mastermind behind it all.
He wrote “Delta Lady” for Joe Cocker. It became a hit.
Then in 1971, Leon performed at George Harrison’s Concert for Bangladesh—one of the first major benefit concerts in rock history. He shared the stage with Harrison, Bob Dylan, Eric Clapton, and Ringo Starr. His medley of “Jumpin’ Jack Flash” and “Young Blood” was one of the standout performances of the night. He was ON FIRE.
Suddenly, Leon Russell wasn’t just a session player anymore. He was a star.
By 1973, Billboard named him the “Top Concert Attraction in the World.”
Read that again. The guy who had spent a decade playing anonymous piano parts was now filling stadiums on solo tours. His album Carney reached #2 on the charts. He was crossing genres effortlessly—rock, blues, country, gospel, bluegrass—and audiences couldn’t get enough.
He wrote songs that became standards. “A Song for You”—a tender, achingly beautiful ballad—has been recorded by more than 200 artists, including Ray Charles, Donny Hathaway, Whitney Houston, and Amy Winehouse. In 2018, it was inducted into the Grammy Hall of Fame.
Another of his songs, “This Masquerade,” was covered by more than 75 artists. George Benson’s version won a Grammy.
Leon founded Shelter Records in 1969, creating wild, creative environments where musicians could live and work together. He established studios in Hollywood and Tulsa, fostering creativity without boundaries.
He produced and played on sessions for Barbra Streisand, Bob Dylan, Frank Sinatra, Ike & Tina Turner, the Rolling Stones. He toured with the Stones. He collaborated with Willie Nelson. He wrote and recorded hits like “Tight Rope” and “Lady Blue.”
For a brief, brilliant period in the early 1970s, Leon Russell was one of the biggest names in music.
By the 2000s, Leon was playing smaller venues. The stadiums were gone. A new generation of music fans had never even heard of him. He kept touring—because that’s what he did, that’s who he was—but he was a legend from another era that the world had moved past.
He was still brilliant. He was still performing. But the spotlight had moved on.
In 2009, Elton John decided to do something about it.
Elton had idolized Leon since the beginning of his own career. When Elton was starting out in the early 1970s, Leon was already a star. Leon’s influence shaped Elton’s sound, his flamboyant showmanship, his entire approach to piano-driven rock.
Elton had always called Leon a mentor and an inspiration. So when he saw that Leon had been nearly forgotten, he reached out and asked him to record an album together.
The result was The Union, released in 2010. It was a collaboration between two piano-playing legends—one at the height of his fame, one who’d been overlooked for decades.
The album was critically acclaimed and Grammy-nominated. Cameron Crowe made a documentary about the creative process. And suddenly, people were talking about Leon Russell again.
Elton championed him publicly. He spoke about Leon’s genius, his influence, his importance to rock history. And in 2011, Elton inducted Leon into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.
That same year, Leon was also inducted into the Songwriters Hall of Fame.
After decades of being overlooked, Leon Russell was finally getting the recognition he deserved.
But by then, his health was failing. He’d had a heart attack. He had brain surgery, but was looking forward to another tour.
On November 13, 2016, Leon Russell died in his sleep at his home in Nashville. He was 74 years old.
Elton John posted: “My darling Leon Russell passed away last night. He was a mentor, inspiration & so kind to me. I loved him and always will.”
Leon Russell left behind an extraordinary legacy: 33 albums, at least 430 songs (probably more), collaborations with virtually every major artist of his era. He’d been directly involved with hundreds of bestselling records over a 60-year career.
But more than the numbers, Leon Russell represented something rare in music—a musician’s musician. Someone who could play anything, work with anyone, cross any genre. Someone equally at home backing Frank Sinatra in a suit or leading a hippie commune with wild hair and a beard down to his chest.
He proved you could be both the anonymous session player and the stadium-filling star. The guy in the background and the guy in the spotlight.
Leon Russell’s story is a reminder that the most talented people aren’t always the most famous—and that sometimes genius hides in plain sight for years before the world finally sees it.
He played on songs you’ve heard a thousand times without ever knowing his name.
Then he stepped into the light and showed the world what he’d been all along: a master. Curated from NoCapArchives
As someone posted on social media, “Besides beautiful Leon’s awesome talents and accomplishments, the purity of his heart shines through.” His disability didn’t hold him back; he’s an inspiration.
Check out the genius of Leon during the Homewood Sessions…it captured a priceless moment in time:
Enchanted Seashells | Princess Rosebud 