This was chalked into the sidewalk near my lagoon. It’s been there for a while and so far no one has tampered with it, so I decided to memorialize the words in a photo. I don’t know who wrote it, but I would like to meet them, because it’s sad yet profoundly hopeful at the same time.
I am not afraid to keep on living,
I am not afraid to walk this earth (world) alone.
Photo by Enchanted Seashells
This haunting photo of the ocean is a total mystery. I don’t remember where or when I snapped it, but it’s intense.
I can certainly relate. I’m working on the shadowy crevices between total darkness and the love and positivity that shines a light into the murky gloom.
Embrace and make peace with our shadow side with a lot of love and self compassion.
As a true Taurean, I hold on tightly. I believe, I have faith, I hope, I wish — but sometimes I have to let go, as much as it causes immense pain.
If ever anything was past the point of no return, it’s these black bananas. I held on for so long, I saved them because I figured they’d be perfect for banana bread or muffins, but then I became emotionally attached and couldn’t let go, even when they lost all signs of life.
And I still couldn’t dispose of them.
I cleaned out the refrigerator (Lion’s Gate Portal activity) and put them to one side in a sort of transitional area JUST IN CASE, because you never know when the heart will start to beat once again.
This is the way my brain works. Here’s what I wonder: If I peel them, what will I discover? Have they become toxic and inedible? Can they be resurrected or is it too late? What if I toss them out and they were still good?
What do you think?
In the corner of the garden close to the back gate, I found a wing that belonged to a Monarch butterfly. Poor tattered little one, colors dull and listless; I carefully picked her up to bring inside the house to spend eternity resting in a pretty box of similar treasures.
When I went back outside to finish a yard clean-up project, I had a visitor — this magnificent Monarch who stayed still long enough to spread her wings for a picture, vibrant and alive:
It’s a blueblue sky circle of life day here in SoCal.
It’s been an insane couple of days here on Earth, hasn’t it? A lunar occultation, double meteor showers, giant earthquakes, tsunamis — in addition to retrograde Mercury and the Lion’s Gate portal — and we are definitely in the midst of a massive amount of cosmic energy. I’m not sure what it all means, but I’m on high alert, that’s for sure.
There were no earthquakes or tsunami damage around here, but check out this crazy photo! I was in the garden near a brick patio cleaning fallen leaves from the eucalyptus tree. It’s a really annoying job because my stupid city planted the wrong sort of street trees decades ago and not only do eucs make a giant mess, they’re also a fire hazard. I have to constantly pick up the leaves and the incredibly painful-to-bare-feet seed pods (known as gum nuts). No matter how many times neighbors and I lobby the city to get the tree removed, we are always turned down; another stupidstupid city decision.
In and around the bricks and rocks, I had positioned a few random tiles to add some color when a friendly real lizard stopped by for a visit. I’m glad my camera was close by to memorialize the meeting between art and reality.
Does art imitate life or is life imitating art?
You can see some of the offending euc leaves that fell right after I had cleaned up this area. It’s SO annoying!
Photo by Enchanted Seashells
#WordlessWednesday
With all the powerful planetary energies at play right now and everything else in this country that almost too horrible to even think about, it seems like a great time to get grounded, to literally get back to what’s simple and healing — and that’s where you’ll find me, in the garden planting seeds of serenity (and flowers).
A garden must combine the poetic and the mysterious
with a feeling of serenity and joy.
– Luis Barragan
It’s not often that a hummingbird will be able to stop moving long enough to take a picture that’s not blurry, but yesterday I got lucky. This little one darted from one monkey flower to another and my phone did a pretty good job of capturing her colorful exuberance. The nectar must have been sweet and delicious.
“She’s little and I love her too much for words to say.” –Leon Russell
The lyrics to Hummingbird, another Leon Russell masterpiece, were swirling around in my head while I was snapping these pics. (This is Set 2 / Live At The Fillmore East/3/27/70 · Leon Russell Mad Dogs & Englishmen)
Sometimes you never know what’s going to thrive in your garden when seeds are sown, but this year’s zinnias have been spectacular. I’ll save all the seeds and try again since she’s really happy where I planted her near the front door.
This beauty brings so much joy! I especially love her little coronet of yellow flowers.
Zinnia is named after Johann Gottfried Zinn, a German botany professor who discovered these plants and brought them back to Europe in the 1700s.
The center of a zinnia is made up of disk florets, which are tiny flowers that form a cluster in the middle. These disc florets are surrounded by larger, petal-like structures called ray florets.
The circle of yellow florets is where the nectar is located. It’s where bees pollinate as they collect nectar and pollen. The center of the flower will start to grow larger as the seeds start to form. YAY!
If an apple a day is supposed to keep us healthy, what can I do with all of these?
This is the first year I won the battle with rats and squirrels. I netted and secured the entire tree and picked the most abundant harvest yet.
I counted at least seventy apples and now I’m left with a busy day.
I’ll post the recipes later, but I plan to fire up the crockpot to cook and freeze applesauce, apple butter, and prep apple slices ready for pies. I’m feeling very much like Little House on the Prairie with this bounty. I am so proud of myself!
These apples were from one tree; there’s another tree on the upper garden with smaller apples but I’ll pick them today and add them to the crockpot, too.
The smell of apples + cinnamon is sooo therapeutic! 🍎
Not exactly a river, but a little rivulet next to the lagoon that seems to have no beginning, goes nowhere, and abruptly ends without a trickle. We haven’t had rain for weeks, months even, so there’s no real explanation for the existence of this body of water.
I can relate to the meandering path of aimless inertia; of stagnant apathy. I guess that’s the feeling for today, likely generated by last night’s powerful full moon energy.
And of course because I’m obsessed, I searched for a Leon Russell musical connection. “Watching the River Flow” is a song by Bob Dylan; masterfully produced by Leon Russell. it was written and recorded in March 1971.
As always, I love Leon’s version the best…
Enchanted Seashells | Princess Rosebud 