After folks leave a dining table

where the meal has been eye-filling and nourishing, the conversation doesn't.  Talk lingers learning to embrace silence's echo.  Just one of those minor principles of physics, rarely mentioned.  But remarkably refreshing in dreams and in the writing down of non sequiturs.  Each word has an echo; each word, a non sequitur.  And what is an eye-filling and nourishing meal?  Imagine.  Listen.

Flower pot

You probably haven't thought of a cityscape from the perspective of a flower pot.  First you need to know that a flower pot's take on things is never singular.  A flower pot takes in all angles, height and depth.  Just see above.  What spills forth!

Now can you image how simple carrots see the baking tray and the ravenous mouth of an oven as they are put in to bake?

And how do the perfectly suited tango partners of paper and pen decide who leads?

Night flowers

Night flowers are like no other.
If you are lucky to be standing in the right spot
at the exact moment when a midnight breeze commences
you will see night flowers consort with the moon.
This you will never forget.  As you never forgot the first time
you encountered an artichoke.  Or tasted avocado.  Or your first
typewriter.

Doors

By their Spring-nature, doors are green.  No, no, not physical doors.  Those portals to dirt.  To dreaming.  Remember, the food you pack for this journey says a lot about you.  Fruit is always a wise choice and cheese to accompany.  Also, pay attention to the pen and the weight of paper upon which you gesture your greening.  Don't be discouraged, clouds are inevitable and by their nature, amusing.  

Contents

Sometimes beauty is in the breaking open.  Unexpected contents.  Another word for inspiration?

What does the egg feel when the yolk spills from its fragile and tenacious shell? And who is listening for the voice of the yolk?

What does the mouth feel when words flow forth & swirl?

When three or more questions are present, it is best to consider the merits of a cup of tea.  And be content.

Where is the moon?

She becomes in dreaming.  Is a dream solid or liquid?  Does it ripple as an old story waiting to bloom. When the moon appears, what color will She be.  What color will you? Solid or liquid?  The same can be said of pen & paper, isn't that so? And when dinner is served -- simple or lavish -- will She be at your table?

Night is a lover of shutters

Did you know night sees in two directions at once --
-- inward & outward?  Night incessantly invents
names for the color blue and almost always appears
on the slant.  Night dreams of Chinese take-out:
shrimp with beans aplenty -- black & string.

Night is a life-long spinner of story and never forgets
a name.  But do not be duped, night loves to cozy-up
with anything abstract.

The above two photos put through app-Circular

Rain is reason

to re-dream. Re-dream the prickly pear as reflecting a watery nature.  No thoughts of jam here.

Above photo with app Reflect

Then re-dream the re-dream into a joyous imagining.   What color would Pantone assign?

Top left photo with app Circular

Voice

In whose voice?  It's important to know who is telling you the story.  Perspective and all of that.
So, today as frequently occurs, it's the voice of haiku.  Let's be candid, sometimes a picture best captures the voice.

Hey, Kit, look outside it's raining.  Here's a good view for your blog.  Come closer. 

See.  Good huh?  Now put it through that crazy app.  I think it's called Circular.

Told you!  Please give me credit and put extra tuna in my bowl.   

There you have it -- the entire petite story with credit (full disclosure?) to haiku

Conversation

Above photo app-enhanced, Circular

Conversation is a silver key to memory.  I miss (mourn?) lilacs.  Not California ceanothus; that lilac of my New Jersey childhood.  Would you believe, someone sitting at the same table at a women's gathering tells me she has a flowering lilac in her yard; she will bring me cut flowers.  Synchronicity is afoot as we're served corned beef and cabbage in the most flavorful of broths.  With a splash of rum.  Yes, rum.

I'm in heaven.  Heaven continues two days later as she gives me these blooms.  Thanks, Tenaya!

I like the white table in the top photo as it reminds me of fabric lilac buds on my Easter hats.  More hat and bit of lilac.

Before the month is spent, perhaps there will be a Psalm to Lilacs.

Purple

Above photo through app-Circular

I associate Spring with purple as much as I do green.  Perhaps, it's the backyard lilac bushes from childhood.  I admit ceanothus are wondrous but not the lilac of my youth.  But then again, Spring is a lament of sorts.  As is memory.  Memory of Mom's spaghetti sauce.  Memory of Easter hats & gloves.  Memory of the last notebook filled with black ink & spaces between all those gestures.

Today's perspective on yesterday

yesterday's blog photo edited with the app Circular

quite a leap!
When leaping, it is the beginning or the ending which most matters?
This I know for sure:  to begin a project (writing or cooking) requires the lessons of leaping.