I found some cool tiny things outside to show you today. The first thing I noticed was a fern frond just uncurling with a stem long enough to not be lost in the other unfurled fronds. They remind me of violin heads.
Then when I was looking at the spiderwort I saw a bee buzzing from flower to flower filling its pollen sacs and this time I managed to get a picture of it. Not a great picture but a picture.
And there was one big thing. The rhubarb leaves are so enormous that a friend who came over to pick a few bay leaves said, "those are big enough to make garments from!" Yeah, they kind of are. I see rhubarb crisp or cobbler in our future, and probably some chopped and in the freezer in pie- or bread-size portions
I think the Red-Tailed Hawks have moved on. I heard their call in the distance to the west a couple mornings ago but haven't seen or heard them since and I saw a chipmunk scamper across the patio the other morning so I figure the hawks have gone. Boo.
July 10--Parish Kohanim. "It signifies the juxtaposition of the Industrial Revolution and the Computer Age," Gerard said in a low voice. They stood in the quiet gallery considering a large canvas. "It reminds me of a mandarin fish," said Melissa, "the blues and greens with a hint of orange... yep, a mandarin fish." He looked harder at the canvas. "I see a nut and bolt, a pocket watch, and computer cables. How are you getting an obscure fish out of that?" She waved her hand to encompass the large canvas. "I told you, the colors remind me of the fish." He turned to walk away, shaking his head. "You and people like you are the reason our culture is declining." She followed him into the next gallery. "Wait a minute, I didn't say I hated it and I'm here looking at art. No one said there's only one way to look at a painting." She touched his harm. He shook off her hand. "Oh, come on, Ger. You see a struggle of technologies, I see a fish. Who's to say that one of us is right and the other is wrong? The artist?" She folded her arms across her chest and tapped her foot. "What if those were the only colors of paint he had that day and those things were what was in his desk drawer? Not everything is thought out and planned to the nth degree. Some things are made using what's around and holding still." He threw up his hands and stalked away. "Why do I even try?"
Jerk. Hey, I started a new notebook last night. I get about 6 months of nightly prompts per composition-type notebook. Sometimes the words even go together. Time to shower and make something of my day.