I’m not sure how to account for my fondness for such widely divergent images. What is it that tickles my aesthetic imagination about the view of the Flamingo’s brassy glory from this dimly lit, beige elevator lobby at Harrah’s? And what could it possibly have in common with my appreciation of this tumble of striped rock at Valley of Fire?
Two of my favorite people plan a garden. What could be more beautiful?
Remember bumper cars? They were FUN. I find myself with an unexpected yen to visit an amusement park and just have fun. (This may have something to do with a stopped up ear that is making me stupid and very cranky.)
I don’t think of heather as usually being an early spring bloomer. But here it is.
It’s been unseasonably hot here in DC for the last few days, all the way up into the 80s. Spring is being forced along at a preposterous pace. Finally, today, a break in the heat and some rain. Maybe now we’ll have a chance to pause and appreciate the new green flourishing everywhere.
Most deserts were once watery places, but very few photographs make them seem that way. In this one, I can see the sway and swirl of the current against the rocks, and the sandy path remains to show the way to the ocean.
This much is elemental: water, rocks, roots.
I got flowers! I gotchyer magnolias right here.
Yes, that’s a maple, a Japanese Fire maple. And no, it’s not Fall, it’s Spring. Don’t worry, I’m confused too.
Just as with tattooes inked into the skin, declarations marked into trees sometimes seem to occasion second thoughts or regrets.