ordinary rocks worth stopping for on a bright and beautiful day
wild rose dog berries
When I left this morning for the farmer's market I noticed the wild rose bush behind my adobe wall and how it was decorated like a Christmas tree with red hips. Usually we leave them for the birds (and bears?). This day though, they looked so glorious in the sun, and there were so many, that I was compelled to do something about them. So I donned leather garden gloves, a pair of clippers, and with curious Spike an inch away the whole time, picked as many of the hips as possible without exposing myself to zillions of tiny nasty thorns, knife-like yucca leaves, and the low reaching arms of the apricot tree (still full of yellow leaves). All of these things are thriving in one modest square of space and it's dangerous! An hour later, a bit scratched and with a few thorns stuck in my sweater, I assessed the harvest.
There is a bit of magic in the air this late afternoon and my mood swings from joy to gloom, from enthusiasm to laziness, clarity to confusion. The sun is low now and filling all the rooms with buttery light. Anything is possible.