I make a stew with rainwater and frozen meat, thick with pine needles, warm beer, and baby teeth
I was in bed for just about twelve hours last night. I estimate I slept between eight and ten of them. The only dream I remember is the one which had to do with cider-making and a museum in ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
nineweaving's Cloud. I spent a chunk of the afternoon on the phone—to a long-distance friend whom I miss, so even when the conversation becomes contemporarily grim it has the pants beat off a doctor's office—and walked out to see about the flowers.
It was so humid that at first the lens fogged up.
The day lilies were out in force, not to mention color and texture.
All flowers get O'Keeffe up close enough.
Especially in the overcast that feels like a storm gathering and seems to have no intention of breaking, I loved even the decaying colors.
The hot pollen hearts.
This one looked particularly sealike, the ruffle of the mantle of a cephalopod.
Or sometimes a Dalí clock.
Thistles? I approved of their determined purple.
Now I know and can properly say hi to the yucca flowers.
It turns out a different friend of mine is moving his family to Canada. I found out because he thought I already knew. The first strangeness that hit me was not the irony of family histories, but simply that I know someone who can cross national boundaries with what sounds like less of a strain than I can find an apartment in my own city.
nineweaving's Cloud. I spent a chunk of the afternoon on the phone—to a long-distance friend whom I miss, so even when the conversation becomes contemporarily grim it has the pants beat off a doctor's office—and walked out to see about the flowers.
It was so humid that at first the lens fogged up.
The day lilies were out in force, not to mention color and texture.
All flowers get O'Keeffe up close enough.
Especially in the overcast that feels like a storm gathering and seems to have no intention of breaking, I loved even the decaying colors.
The hot pollen hearts.
This one looked particularly sealike, the ruffle of the mantle of a cephalopod.
Or sometimes a Dalí clock.
Thistles? I approved of their determined purple.
Now I know and can properly say hi to the yucca flowers.
It turns out a different friend of mine is moving his family to Canada. I found out because he thought I already knew. The first strangeness that hit me was not the irony of family histories, but simply that I know someone who can cross national boundaries with what sounds like less of a strain than I can find an apartment in my own city.
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Thank you!