From red to green to red. Tender leaves of the red maple tree grow, turn green as they mature and then, at the end, turn red again. Makes me think of how children grow to become adults, then near the end go back to childhood ways. In one way or another, we’re all here to grow, it’s just a matter of time.
“The Little Tiger” — 19x12” — Origami
Here’s my latest origami composition. This is a tribute to all the orange tabby cats everywhere and a special remembrance of my “Willey Boy,” who lives on in my heart forever. 😻
The house next-door waking up with the early morning sun.
When times get too hot🥵….slow down….be still….close your eyes and picture this….🥶
Yesterday‘s walk around the neighborhood: I looked down into the creek and there they were again: goldfish! Top picture is from last August, my post #1415 which featured goldfish in this very same spot. Thing is…the creek bed here is narrow and most of the time dry, it occasionally gets some runoff after a rain. These can’t be the same goldfish from last year….can they? Where did they come from? Why are they here? Oh, I just love nature’s surprises!
Two days ago a big storm hit at sundown, tripping thru, whipping trees and power lines everywhere—-hundreds of thousands of homes and buildings without power, without lights, air conditioning, fans, fridges or freezers in 90-degree temperatures!🥵 This cat next door knows how to keep cool, no matter what!😽
What’s this? Something’s brewing…. She must be working on her next composition.😘
First sunflower—it must be summer!
I was on my way into the library when I was stopped by stuff piled up inside a car. Books, games, books, puzzles, a pair of shoes, books, a yoga mat, and more books! I guess one can never have too many books….TGFL!😘
Happy Father’s Day to all the top dogs out there everywhere!🐶
Honestly, I don’t know how my camera took this picture. The sky just turned to black. And when the fireworks were over, the moon came out again in yesterday‘s blog post.
I never thought I’d see it, but there it was—the sun, the moon, and the stars all strung out together across the sky!😘
From the introduction to Kokinshu, anthology of Japanese poetry commissioned by Emperor Daigo around the year 905: “Poetry in Japan begins with the human heart as its seed and words as its leaves. It arises when people are inspired by what they see and hear to give voice to the feelings that come forth from the multitude of events in their lives…”
Making the bed this morning, still half asleep. The blanket’s talking to me: Wake up! Wake up! Take my picture! 😘
Yesterday’s story….that’s it.
In the silence not a word was spoken, and yet.
All those turtles made me think of that fun old song, “Old Macdonald Had a Farm”— with a moo-moo, quack-quack, cluck-cluck, oink-oink sounds. Then I thought to myself: what sound does a turtle make? Click on the link and take a listen:
Walking on my way home just down the street from where I live, a sweet fragrance caught my attention. There was a Japanese Snowbell tree with its profusion of pretty white blossoms swinging in the breeze just like little bells. In East Asia the flowers and fruits from these trees have been used to treat toothaches, sore throats, and coughs…and also in traditional fishing to stun fish and make them easier to catch!
Yesterday, out for an after-dinner walkabout, I spotted a bunch of kids playing kickball on the street. I walked over, stopped awhile to watch, recalling my own school days long ago when we played kickball in the school gym. Just like that girl, I could still see myself kicking the ball sky high and running the bases—they were bowling pins. Then I called out to these kids, “Hey, I used to play kickball!” A voice shot back, “Wanna play now?”
Blown away! Heavy winds all day. That skeleton needs a little meat on its bones. It doesn’t pay to be too thin.😉
“RedBird Sings Her Own Song - 8x10” - Origami Composition
If I could be the bird in the tree for just one day, let me be red. (This is a follow-up to post 1665. Thank you, my friends, for your encouragements.)
Three days of rainfall and the dry creek bed has filled up. It’s prettier than a painting. Standing on the old stone bridge, taking a picture….if I lean over far enough, could I see my own face and take a selfie? I’d better not.