The eye of a flowers

 glimpses its own imagination.  Imagine that!

If flowers were coral fish

 We all know, coral fish are underwater flowers, don't we?  What else do we all know, especially about the freedom of choice?  

It's that time of year

 When paper and sun meet at the intersection of "happy."  

Adventure galore

 

inside an empty bowl.  Perhaps, even the first paragraph of a novel.  Or a treasure map.  Who  doesn't love an adventure. By the way, what do you think seasonal fruits' perspective is on an empty bowl?  Or a bowl brimming with seasonal abundance?  

Rapt and rapture

We can imagine the offscreen object of fascination. (Hint, has wings.  Has a beak). Meanwhile the bird (Matilda) in plain sight, ignored.  How like humans!  

 

Head on fire

 

or is this purple hair on a cyclops?   You choose.  I'm with you on this.  

Why do extremely large tires fascinate me.

Or very tall trees?  Very tall people, too.

 

A thistle in the sun

 Tonight, let's have pasta and carciofi.  I'll pick some basil.  You get the rosemary.  Let's rendezvous at 6.  

Frozen in time --

labyrinth-like fingerprint.  Much to think about as the upright oaks in the field across the way spill shadows like runes.  

 

A working angle

                                                         

                                   Conversing with large machinery, sky calibrates the angle. 

                                      Have you noticed, how sky makes space for every tree  

                                                                             and shadow?  

Unexpected

I have a soft-spot for gladioli.  One of the most sensually-abundant flowers.  Their petals, a hue of flamboyance.  Why are gladioli so frequently part of a funeral arrangement?  Life & death, equal partners.  So, what's the backstory on these gladioli?  A month or so ago several green stalks popped up in a patch of dirt in our  your patio.  I decided to see what nature would offer.  Looks like we will have an abundant harvest of gladioli.  Whether they will all be this delightfully-shocking pink/purple, is a question for time's unraveling.  Stay tuned.  I am.  
 

Language, subtle and muted

eloquently communicates. Isn't all language visual?  

 

Front, back, and center

Progress is taking a nap.  

 

Curious messages abound

A walk is an opportunity for a smile.

I wonder

 

Do poppies love their shadows as much as their petals.  Do we love our shadows as much as our sorrow?  

All four direction lead to the center

and depart from the center.  All I can think of is a memory of the first time I saw a peacock in a small, local animal preserve.  I must have been 6 and simply marveled at the patterns in the peacock's feather.  I couldn't understand how such an elegant creature had such a shrill voice.  No rhyme, no reason to that. 

Have you ever attempted

to return to the center of last night's dream.  Good luck.  

 

Organic mowing season

A hillside near us is the yearly gathering of goats who mow the vegetation to a fire-abatement level.  How clever, how sensible is this.  A herd of mismatched goats with those knowing, sensitive eyes.  I'm thinking of all the dishes I prepared with yummy goat-eye beans from Pescadero.   That wonderful shop closed several years ago.  

Inverse

Bearded irises have a unique way of seeing themselves.  Of being in the world.   

 

Even a tulip

needs to reflect upon itself.  

 

In a spread of rose petals

the essence of all we have found, all we have lost.  All we have forgiven.  

 

Beautiful spills in three parts

The spill of Spring's new blooms. Yes, the jasmine is blooming. Scent, confirms.
The spill of the jasmine's shadow across the patio chair.
The green marble's reflection on its leaf.  The lemon bush is budding again.  

Some many reasons

to walk your neighborhood.  Come across a cement bench in a park with no rain for a week and yet the bench's feet sit in a pool of water. I  In a child's voice, I ask "why."  A question for which there is no immediate answer makes me smile.  I continue toward the small garden of roses.  They don't disappoint either.  The roses delicate in an early morning kind of way. 

 

Some things never fail to gladden

 and these days anything which gladdens the spirit is to be embraced.  And shared.  

Pincushion in the wild.

We know all too well that is being ripped apart.  Well, what is being mended? This pincushion is at the ready.  Ready for service.  
 

How a tulips sees itself.

 Meanwhile, have you ever contemplated the nape of a tulip.  Worthy of a pause. 

That time of year

The Puya -- sacred plant of the Andes -- is flowering.  At the tip of the flowers a drop of nectar so sweet.  Their jade flowers like wax. To come across a Puya is joyful.  
 

Two options

 Bearded iris seen through a fence or a Japanese scroll.  I'm going with the latter.  

Roses & baby's breath

Roses like paper poems and baby's breath like tiny suspended snowdrops.  Has dying ever been more tranquil, more beautiful.  All held by time.  

Tropical birds in unlikely places

On the side of a community swimming pool, a gaggle of birds-of-paradise.  Afar and close up.

 

Cherry blossoms and tree knuckles

The soft, the hard, the petite, the massive.  All in a blink.  

Rope

 and its fray.  I'd say, a fitting image of where we are (or aren't) in our country.  Let's hold on to kindness.  

There are certain flowers

for which a flood of memory washes over me.  Each and every time. I can't see a calla lily without hearing Ann's impersonating  A. Hepburn.  A blessed memory for sure.  The tulip is an added gift.  

Please don't expect a call

or to have your call returned in this lifetime.  In my lifetime, a lifetime of technological changes.  I can still hear the drop of a slim dime into the metal slot.  

Kindly note the tongue action

on my new best friend -- Bosco the pig.  Bosco hails from Haight Street, Alameda.  That's a right turn off Webster heading into town.  As the sign requests, please do not feed Bosco.  Urban areas  are full of delightful surprises.  Alameda's farmers market on Tuesday morning will not disappoint.  Lots to do, see, and explore on this island.  Besides Oakland's Chinatown awaits on the other side of the tube. Yes, Bosco has a facebook page.   
 

Nothing like worrying over

spilled tea.  Something soothing about fallen petals.  Perhaps, harkens back to Spring singing Autumn Leaves to the future.  The silkiness of tulip petals.  Of course, their hues beguile.  

Unglamorous

 Yet, practical.  Essential.  A beauty of necessity and use resides in a place of thriving, often flowering fibonacci.  Bancroft Succulent Gardens.  Can you hear the water flowing?   

Where is this dream heading?