At lunchtime, I followed a game trail down to the creek and sat under a huge oak tree for half an hour, in a place where humans rarely go. I wish everyone had the opportunity to do this, to sit alone in silence by a clean creek under an old tree, and just breathe (and listen, and draw, and write). Would we still fight wars, I wonder?
The largest shell I find on our local beaches is the wavy turban snail. I was alarmed to learn that this gastropod is being harvested for food in growing numbers, with no oversight and no research. Sounds like another extinction waiting to happen. And before that, a radical decrease in the size of the turbans, as they pick off the largest ones.
This stone buddha has been beside a local trail for quite a few years. He is hidden when the weeds are lush and re-emerges as summer ends and the grasses die back.
While the mechanic worked on my car, I wandered down the road and found this cafe. Good coffee, yummy chia pudding, friendly staff. Recommend!
The feisty red-haired 6-year-old—who rather suddenly became my stepdaughter two decades ago—is now 26. Happy birthday, gorgeous.
I got to wondering about the triggers for a deciduous tree’s leaves to turn brown in autumn. How does an individual leaf decide to turn? And what makes one part of a leaf turn first? I’m humming along to The Byrds as I ponder.
When they say “annual average” rainfall … what does that really mean? Average over how many years? And with weather becoming more extreme year by year, does the referred-to “average” change every year? Does the term even have meaning anymore? Enquiring minds want to know.
I noticed a milkweed plant that was experiencing all its seasons at once. Nice!
I sat beside Century Lake and watched this bright little dragonfly return over and over to the same piece of bent grass. I decided she must want her portrait painted, so I obliged.
hashiworks 