Pretty Invasive

June 6, 2018.  A landscape chore neglected several years taught me a few things.  Our suburban backyard is “yard” surrounded by a U-shaped “dog run”.  Chain link fencing (once part of a cat fence-in of “yard”) proves an inviting trellis.  Over the years we’ve planted deliberately while battling such as wild grape, cat brier, and a good many unknowns.  Uncensored, Moonseed vine and Virginia creeper took over the section of chain link beside the back porch.  Beyond, in what’s now the Labrador’s run between chain-link and wooden privacy fences, Mexican petunia (Ruellia) flourishes.  I love those blooms – enough to tackle downing a mass of vines.

But I was in for a rude awakening:  I was ripping down beauty in its own right, albeit not showy like Ruellia.

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Blown Away

May 3, 2018.  Yesterday afternoon I ventured out in weather that could not quite rain but refused to calm down … I had one of those moments of recall that brought me home to write down the memories.  Searching through files, I found photos from 2017 of the same place, on a similar overcast day – which I’ve coupled with a closer view of the prickly poppies prevalent this time of the year.  I go back once a year or so, preferably in the Spring.  My aunt’s house is long gone, but the road remains pretty much the same – near Cheapside, 20 miles out from Cuero TX.

My memories are of the year I lived in the country with my aunt, who worked in town and got home a good 2 hours after the school bus dropped me at the front gate.  I spent those 2 hours daily walking the country road, solo except for cows off in the pasture.  I was in the 8th grade, a pivotal year, and I owe so much to those walks!  One day in particular, the wind nearly knocked me down, but I charged into it rather than go inside to be “safe”.

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Exploring The Tangle

April 7, 2018.  I’ve been playing with a new macro photography lens, happily excited by some of the “captures”.  I am far from professional equipment, but now closer to a shareable visual of details that attracted my imagination.  This image is a passion flower vine tendril dangling mid air, tangling onto itself for lack of anything else to grasp.  These grow on a trellis by our front gate – leave town for a few weeks, and the gate will be laced shut on return.  Had I stood still a couple of hours, this one might well have grabbed more than my imagination.

I considered collaging in a ladybug … but will leave that to your imagination ….

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Persistence

March 31, 2018.  March blows Spring into Central Texas – bringing wildflowers and fresh leaves.  And in the garden, poppies!  We planted seeds once and now we collect seeds to give away – our poppies keep popping back year to year.  They are a mix of red and pink, big and small, and they are prolific.  But each bloom is brief.  And each worthy a portrait, my excuse to frequently indulge my photography urges.

I lucked onto one “about to pop” and caught the sequence.  Apart from borders and the  stand-in downward bud, all images are of the same poppy.  All but the full bloom, in the span of about 5 minutes.  The fully opened bloom is an hour or so later.

A delight to watch the unfolding!

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Pause

March 25, 2018.  This is messy time of year in Central Texas – live oaks drop all their leaves and then immediately begin “blooming” and dusting everything with their yellow pollen.   Might as well wait for it to finish before trying to clean up.

Today I found this green anole on the hood of our black truck – perhaps drawn to the hue of the pollen? Perhaps struck by the reflection surrounding him?  The perfect icon for Central Texas Spring, and decidedly in an extended pause.  Perhaps contemplating source?

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Snag Presence

March 10, 2018.  I spent February studying Zen poetry – reading many of the classics and writing to suggested prompts.  Lorraine “Bird” Mejia is a skilled online teacher and manages to pull things from me I did not expect.  True with the Zen writing, for sure.  But one of the exercises took me a bit off-prompt, smack dab back to the New Mexico mountain where we camp every August – specifically, back to the “snag” (a tree dead but standing, top broken off) where I sit in solitude.  I posted about that snag in 2015, and here I repeat that earlier poem followed by my “Zenish” perception.   One snag, two takes.

Who knows? There could be more snag poems to emerge …

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