Here are some home-grown marigolds, which Leslie definitely grew from seeds. Growing flowers from seed is truly fun. In the first place, you realize how improbable flowers are. At first, the green sprouts and stems make ordinary sense, like all the other green things we live around. Then, at the base of a leaf usually, a nub develops, no bigger than the head of a pin. Forces are gathering, coalescing spirals of DNA, I suppose, into what will give the plant its purpose in living. Sometimes another tender stem emerges, or the nub lightens, or thins, as layers of color and reproductive organs gain strength. Eventually, the petals overtake the size of their cocoon and POOF, there’s a marigold, proudly showing pink how orange, orange can be.
Leslie, my San Francisco Hostess, has a pretty amazing view of the Golden Gate bridge from her porch. However, I tend to find the shiny things close by make better souvenir pictures. It was too chilly for morning coffee outdoors, but the kitty didn’t mind at all. Tune in tomorrow for more views of Leslie’s garden…
We have been walking through life together for quite a while, me and you. Forever, in fact. Or, all the “ever” either of us has known. I don’t look down and see your feet next to mine as often as I’d like, but I know they are there. We are just travelling on a wider sidewalk now. Don’t go too far without me, and make sure you give me a chance to catch up when you find something neat further down the path. I will be there right away.
I love you, hon. Xoxoxobren
Cas does not like his picture to be taken, but he would not break his concentration on the task at hand. You won’t know exactly what bones you have maniacally hacked out of the clay block from the Educational Toy Store, until you rinse off the clay residue, which task you must perform at the sink, in a sippy cup, lest you endanger The Carpet. At last, the tiny prizes are revealed – a skull, an intact vertebrae – all about the size of a mouse. Are they real bones, you ask? Well, real to Whom?
No Cracker Jack prize was ever this fun to excavate.
Water is an incredible lens. It allows you to see very clearly everything that isn’t really happening. Just like the sky doesn’t really change color as Earth rotates into morning or night, only the angle of reflection between light and water and dust and you, people in water only appear to melt and stretch and curdle to the very limits of their skeletons. Or maybe it is a true portrayal of how, immersed in joyful forgetting, self forms and reforms as freely as a cloud.
Anyway, I would like to play pictures at the pool some more. I learned alot.
Morning at the table begins with a silence as rare as stillness. Action figures are waiting, but alert. A few moments of grown up conversation distills our lives into whatever random snapshots we can squeeze into this brief pause. We speak softly, keeping our breakfast secret as long as we can. First, there will be bacon. After bacon, the day’s work commences. But first, there will be bacon.