At the risk of being accused of always having my head in the clouds (guilty!) I took this photo a couple days ago right about 4:30 or so in the afternoon directly across the street from Casa de Enchanted Seashells.
I’ve never seen the sky like this–Picasso-esque–almost as if these shapes are petroglyphs or messages speaking to me, but I can’t seem to decipher the code.
I’m not very good at comprehending signs from the Universe. For example, a while back I would be drawn to notice 5:14 on the dot, AM and PM, every single day for a couple of weeks. That’s my birthdate, so it must mean something important, right?
I never could figure it out, but subsequently, there was 5:41 AM and PM for a few days, and I have absolutely NO IDEA if that’s some kind of karmic joke or if it was mere coincidence. Like sometimes a rose is just a rose? I dunno, but it confused me and made me feel ignorant because if it WAS a message, what was it? Who was it from?
Sometimes I’m simply not very smart because 5:14 is popping up again unbidden. WTF? Mom, is that you? If so, WHAT DO YOU WANT? Sheesh, she can so annoying.
It’s a little early for this blossoming activity because SoCal can’t decide if it’s winter or spring–looks like spring won the contest.
They smell so delicious, I might have to try Helena Rubinstein’s Apple Blossom perfume which was originally released in 1936 and is still in production. The license from Helena Rubinstein was acquired by Kent Cosmetics in 1988 and according to the manufacturer, the formula is still the same.
Hmmm, I’d be curious to see if any human-made scent could duplicate the purity of intense fragrance contained within these five little flower petals. If so, I’d be tempted to bathe in it every day.
I had to read that Hemingway novel in school; I remember my dad helped me write the report ‘cos it’s not my cup of tea and I didn’t understand what it was all about. Honestly, how could any 7th or 8th grader with no life experiences ever understand the subtext of a story like that?
I think he met Hemingway at one point because he was salivating when I also had to read Old Man and the Sea for the same class and he helped me with that report too. I remember getting an A on it, and feeling like I didn’t really deserve the grade, but oh well…
Hemingway killed animals for sport and even back then I was an animal defender, so I didn’t feel too badly that my dad did my work.
That’s really off topic, because I simply wanted to share these photos I took of our sunrise this morning. Due to the time change, I was awake extra early, looked out my bedroom window and my mouth dropped open with the sheer loveliness of the sky.
I don’t exactly face due east, so I hurried to get my Canon and run outside before the scene changed and this is what I captured, no filter and unretouched.
Pure, raw pics:
And then this from another slightly different direction seconds later:
Anyway, this took my mind off of the election issues for a brief moment; I am anticipating the formal declaration of President Biden and Vice President Harris. It will be such a relief to fire that toxic orange amoral demon!
Is there anyone that doesn’t love balloons? We know they need to be disposed of properly to be good ocean stewards, but balloons are fun and festive, except when they POP. I still scream when I hear the loud explosion of a popped balloon.
Do you think this curly haired little girl in her flannel nightgown might have imagined C.S. Lewis’ quote would come to fruition?
For the present is the point at which time touches eternity.
STAY near me–do not take thy flight! A little longer stay in sight! Much converse do I find in thee, Historian of my infancy! Float near me; do not yet depart! – Wordsworth
This female Papilio glaucus, the Eastern Tiger Swallowtail, hung around for about half an hour, leisurely fluttering from one flower to another. I almost felt like paparazzi as I snapped photo after photo of this Lepidopteran celebrity. A little research revealed that the first known drawing of a North America butterfly was in 1587 of an Eastern Tiger Swallowtail by John White.
It happened in the front yard this time along the dry river bed.
I was enchanted while she took a rest break on the ground, basically right at my feet, long enough for me to take about fifty more pics.
To a Butterfly
STAY near me–do not take thy flight! A little longer stay in sight! Much converse do I find in thee, Historian of my infancy! Float near me; do not yet depart! Dead times revive in thee: Thou bring’st, gay creature as thou art! A solemn image to my heart, My father’s family! Oh! pleasant, pleasant were the days, The time, when, in our childish plays, My sister Emmeline and I Together chased the butterfly! A very hunter did I rush Upon the prey:–with leaps and springs I followed on from brake to bush; But she, God love her, feared to brush The dust from off its wings.