I Can't Quit

 



... posting pictures of poppies.  Look at this one, it reminds me of a Georgia O'Keefe painting, if I do say so myself.



 


And here's a seed pod.  Once it's dried the little black seeds come shaking out of holes around the top right onto your poppy seed bagel.  Grandma used to cut them for us and let us shake out the seeds into our hands, then she'd hold out an envelope to save the seeds for the next spring's planting.






This is either Russian Sage or Purple Salvia, I don't remember which one.  It's one of the few perennials that survived on top of the old retaining wall.


I mowed the lawn today.  Man, that's a big job, mostly because the lawn isn't even and smooth; there are bumps and dips and that makes it hard pushing the mower in a straight line.  Of course, it didn't help that I kind of jumped the gun, especially in the front yard, so it was difficult to follow the edge of the mowed part.



The peony buds are getting bigger.  No ants yet, though, so it'll probably be a week before they open.






06 June--Barbara Malcolm, Tropical Obsession. 

The low-ceilinged space was filled with the irritated squeaks of fruit bats jostling for space. Jack glared up at them to make sure he was not in line for any falling guano to stain his pristine khaki shirt. He had arrived at Spelonk cave an hour before sunrise, nestling in a small niche off to the side of the main cave chamber. The rising sun had revealed yellow and red ochre prehistoric paintings of sea creatures on the walls and ceiling and had also heralded the swirling arrival of more bats than he had anticipated. Their little dog snouts and translucent ears that constantly swiveled like small radar dishes, combined with their unexpectedly intelligent eyes, made him think that if he had not been there to disturb their roosting that they just might have talked to each other.

           Mona lost patience with sitting at the villa waiting for Jack to return.  She had Yana drop her at one of the car rental kiosks at the airport where she rented a compact car for a week.  It only cost her ninety-nine dollars; not even Jack could argue with that.  She drove through town and up the coast to one of the pull-off parking spots along the little cliffs that line the northern shore of the leeward side of the island.  She got out and walked along the path, watching the waves march in and collapse on the base of the cliff, and marveling at the frigate birds riding the thermals.  How does the sea grape grow, she wondered? You find it in the most unlikely places. Here on top of the cliff overlooking the ocean, for example. There was precious little soil anywhere on the island for plants to grow in and none at all she could see up here. The thick fleshy gray roots lay curled on top of the rock like long growths, not the white threads she saw when she planted begonias with her grandma when she was a kid. Those hours spent with Grandma were the only normal parts of her life so far.

I watched a webinar this afternoon about racism recommended by a writer friend that was very good and informative and smashed a lot of my long-held ideas.  Education is good, if humbling.  I want to be a better person and acknowledge the struggles of people of color and learn how to change my perceptions.  I'm not too old to learn something new.
--Barbara