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!
There is nothing so beautiful as the glow of late afternoon sun through bright orange Birds of Paradise.
I spent the day digging out a tree and stubborn roots that should never have been planted so close to the house. That left a big hole that was crying to be filled in.
My Birds of Paradise were ready to be divided, so I worked and worked and worked at it until I could separate a section to fill in the empty space.
I like to fill in the empty spaces—in gardens, in conversations, and in sad hearts, too.
When I finished, I looked up and was rewarded with a beautiful sunglow behind the Birds of Paradise.
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.
His birthdate was July 20, and he used to “give” me his birthday so that I could receive presents on that day as well as my own.
I’m not a narcissist, but here it’s all about me. And my daddy, the first one to refer to me as Princess and Rosebud. All I’ve done is combine the two to create my persona.
Nothing much has changed; that’s still about how much of my body gets wet in a pool. Can’t mess with my curls, right?
Even here where a little green worm ate a heart-shaped hole in the leaf of a Cup of Gold vine. How can I possibly be mad at the damage when he left me such a beautiful message?
From time to time, I purge old photos from my phone and these wildflowers were too pretty to dispose of, plus they reminded me of a really fun camping trip to the Pacific Northwest with my Angel Boys.
Wildflowers at Hurricane Ridge, Olympic Mountains, Washington. Taken with an iPhone.
Enchanted Seashells | Princess Rosebud 