Perspective

on growth.  Spring has its way with everything.  Sometimes you need to get up higher to see.  This was a view from the puyas.  Poems, too, benefit from perspective.  Sometimes a perspective of a new notebook.  New pen.  Or cooking.  Or a long walk.  Like Spring, perspective is never singular. And often, kinetic.

Blur

& shadow.
What is the difference between?
From a  quick look-see through Pantone, it might be Warm Gray 2.  Not "too."
I was hoping for something along the lines -- "Magnolia White with Modest Blur 2."
Oh well, sometimes it's like this in the kitchen -- things don't quite work out as planned.  Bring on the happy accidents in the kingdom of spoons and in the arboretum.  Alchemy and earth -- two of the most creative tricksters.  Add language to that and you've got the community focused on joyful mayhem.

What's for lunch?

Point

and pointing to a favorite.  Once a year this commanding beauty blooms.  So get yourself to SF Botanical Gardens today! The Puya are in bloom.  A bromeliaceae, a terrestrial plant.  From the Mapuche Indian "point."

It's doubtful that Pantone has a color assigned specifically for the puya.  This is a loss.  Like a page without a poem.  Plate, without the company of food.

And that, friends, is the point.

Landscapes

So, here's a Sonoma landscape seen from above the ground. And then 2 photos seen from below. Well, sort of. The sweep of clouds; the gears of water.  A liquid forest.

Seen after an exquisite lunch of sweetbreads & such.  And the poem? In the clouds & in the gears.

The above photo app-enhanced by Circular

Top photo app-enhanced by Circular

All in the title

In this case plural.

Light makes it so.  

Ink pays homage to light. 

Light separates nothing. 

And who knows the name of these Pantone colors?

Of course, this is a portrait of women. 

Growing on or growing in?

Lemons grow on trees.  Except when they grow in trees.  And sometimes it's the roof which captures all this drama.  And sometimes its a red truck that is the eyewitness.  And sometimes it's the kitchen. And always the pen.  

Faces in sepia

How do we see each other?

How do we see ourselves? 

Above photo put through app, Circular

Perhaps, this is what a poem sees when it sees itself.  Beauty is afoot.
The kitchen explains everything.

Cornucopia:

or fruit/vegetables abstracted.  Here's a bowl of fruit, vegetables, rosemary & kitchen gauze as a bow. Notice the mushroom & sliced pomegranate in particular.

And regarding, poetry? Well, there's Latin enough in "cornucopia" to inspire.  After all, isn't rosemary the herb of remembrance?

Cornucopia seen through the app Circular

Hanging

Usually fruit hangs from a tree.  Or a bush.  A bush being the same thing as a tree.
Except for its size.

Deliberate in its hanging.  Quite luscious against metal.  An urban contemplation of inner & outer
space.  Meditation on soft & hard.  I'm thinking which poems are hard?  Which soft?  & which juicy?
Ode to Solitary Fruit Hanging on Metal, of course.

Salt & Pepper

The above photo with app, Circular

Add
salt
&
pepper
to memory
of persimmons.
Taste.
A touch
of glass
never
harms.

Did you know, every 9 minutes an ode is written to persimmons?

If Pantone doesn't have a color designated for Fuyu persimmons...

Glisten

Glisten with the unexpected.  In this case, light.  Or in Latin, "lux."  See left-side middle of image. Here's the unexpected. This image is an installation of prayer-flags.  I added "Fiat Lux" as my prayer. When I put the photo through the app Circular, 1/2 of my prayer appeared. What are the odds that it would surface in this photo?

The mouth has a taste for mushroom pizza. That's what a friend serves you for dinner with a martini which is another form of the verb, "to glisten."

Green dreaming

Spring seen through app Circular

She dreams of aspargus & fava beans.  She dreams of Brigit.

And with which shade, which number has Pantone baptized Spring?