One brown and gray, the other vibrant yellow and black; both exquisitely perfect in their own way.
I was actually trying to take pictures of a hummingbird perched on a string of garden lights, but I wasn’t quick enough to capture him and the camera lens picked up the dove and the oriole waiting around to be noticed.
I think I finally found the right place to plant strawberries that have so far remained untouched by rodents.
Yum. They taste as good as they look.
Happy summer Sunday!
Look at those mauve-y petals speckled with the colors of a luscious cabernet sauvignon.
This hydrangea flowerhead not quite past its prime was too exquisite to toss in the trash.
There is beauty in old things if we pay attention.
And a day older…
And a couple days later, almost completely dry while still retaining elegance and charm…
I recall this sonnet by Shakespeare which makes me realize that I actually DID pay attention in class, at least that one day…
That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruined choirs where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou see’st the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west,
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death’s second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou see’st the glowing of such fire
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed whereon it must expire,
Consumed with that which it was nourished by.
This thou perceiv’st, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.
The beach was overcast but the waves were full of surfers. The swell looks to be about three feet or so, but I heard it’s building to five feet by Friday, not that this knowledge impacts my life in any way as I don’t surf and never go in the water, but it’s pretty to look at and hear and smell the salty sea air.
Mostly I look for dolphin or whales or my eyes are laser focused on the Angels when they’re here.
Happy Sunday to everyone except the idiotic Supreme Court.
It’s time to grab the camera when this little guy strikes a pose!
He’s reclining on an outdoor sculpture of (what else) seashells and starfish.
It seems a lovely vantage point to observe the garden. Nice and warm in the sun, he stayed in that same position for quite a while.
#WordlessWednesday
It was too hot too early to walk the full six mile round trip to the Pacific Ocean and back, so I settled for a longish trek around the lagoon with detours to observe it from different perspectives.
I ended up walking mostly all the way to the beach anyway and stopped at Rite Aid to buy myself a treat but nothing looked fun or appealing or was small enough to fit in my little backpack, so I continued on my journey.
Looking east from a secret side street overlooking Snug Harbor and the swan boats on Agua Hedionda Lagoon.
It wasn’t even 9am and the little beach was full of families enjoying Father’s Day and paddleboarding and kayaks. Thank goodness there’s no gigantic mall marring the view on the south shore.
Well, well, well, it seems like we have a very low tide, too, combined with our drought situation.
It’s not often that one could literally walk all the way around the lagoon to the beaches on the south side. I was wearing new shoes and didn’t want to ruin them in the muck, but for once it was entirely possible.
“Time and tide wait for no man”
We can’t stop the passage of time nor the movement of the tides, no matter how much we might want to halt the inexorable inevitability.
This proverb appeared about 1395 in Geoffrey Chaucer’s Prologue to the Clerk’s Tale but I also found a source that said it was recorded as early as 1225 and is reputedly a quote from Saint Mahrer. However, it’s also believed that the expression time and tide wait for no man might be older than that.
My son sent me this photo while he was at Golden Gardens Park in Ballard, Washington on beautiful Shilshole Bay.
It depicts the lowest tide in decades, four feet lower than average.
We have the same exact phone but he takes better pictures than I do, and of course he likes to send them to me to show me what I’m missing.
It’s so true–time and tide wait for no one.
Some clouds and sunshine, perfect for these little lefts and rights this morning…
A lineup in the ocean…
And a lineup in the sky. Look up! Pelicans!
Streets closed and a run around town, the Carlsbad 5000.
Because I was extremely nauseated by the image of that gigantic rat who stole an apple from my sweet little bunnies, the only cure that works for me is some retail therapy.
I combined a visit to my fave consignment shop with a stop to buy rat traps which my kind neighbor offered to set for me because I don’t know how. (And yes, I comprehend the hypocrisy that me, an animal defender and protector–is going to kill them. We simply cannot coexist.)
I needed the soothing activity of strolling up and down every aisle to look at and touch different fabrics and textures and styles; attempts to lay down fresh neurons so I didn’t replay the horror of our local rat infestation due in large part to more land rape here in Carlsbad. This is something lots of the community is suffering from–more rats than we’ve ever experienced. In fact, I will probably address this issue at a future city council meeting. It’s that bad.
Back to the calm of a mindful redirect…
As I chatted with the owner, my eyes spotted a bit of gold in a box on the counter. (I’m such a magpie.) Further examination revealed a pair of PRADA heels and I asked what size they were. She said they had just come in and she wasn’t sure, but I could try them on and tell her.
So I did and it was a Cinderella moment. They fit perfectly.
Even with a healing broken bone in my foot, I knew I had to have them. I just knew.
If they had ever been worn at all, it was only once or twice and never outdoors. They looked brand new.
Here are my vintage (2008 season) Prada black suede pumps with bands of gold. Research revealed they were originally sold with an elaborate ankle accessory which I never would have worn anyway. I’ll have to wait to wear them until I’m no longer limping, but that doesn’t matter to me, not at all.
Not bad for forty dollars, right? And I can look at them and it helps to erase the rat visions in my brain. It’s not easy to photograph shoes; I did the best I could.
That’s not my newly planted milkweed, but a forsythia bush where this Mourning Cloak butterfly is soaking up the quiet morning sun.
Enchanted Seashells | Princess Rosebud 