“are you my mother?” said the baby bird.
Dear thief who stole my eucalyptus tree from our front porch,
In your possession is a tree that has been resurrected from near death. Its young trunk and branches, which probably sits in your front yard, took almost two years to mature.
A relocation wilted her leafy coat and then a desert summer toasted her fragrant leaves and branches. But, i coaxed her, told her to hang on, and watered her wounds in the early morning. When the hot weather faded, she gave birth to fragrant new branches. In the early A.M. I’d greet her with a rub of her petals and young branches, praising her on her growth and enjoying the lovely perfume she shared when I filled her pot with fresh water.
How proud she stood enduring the cruel summer that recently passed!
The day before you stole her, I touched her rather gently, spoke to her softly and fixed her drooping crown. I apologized for not seeing her as often as before; told her she was still lovely and her perfume was my favorite smell.
Please take care of her. Plant her softly in the earth; she is still a new mother and has not yet grown out of her wounds.
A gardener in mourning, as she listens to Quix*o*tic’s sitting in the park .
thanks to wendy b’s post, i came across a picture i adored eons ago. it is the same one that resulted in an extensive hunt through los angeles and part of phoenix for a man tunic.
here it is:
we never found the tunic, so if you know where one can be found…
another rainy day in phoenix, and a random offering from the bird gods.
look what appeared on my shoe just minutes ago:
i really have no idea how it got there.
Somehow this underpaid writer who writes about antioxidants and natural health; and reads “go, dog go” to little bella is slightly envious as she sees another moth hole in her vintage sweater.
“galliano’s ex-muse ?!”
this season we embraced our grey hair and the turban squash, too.
did you know the ue is a mind reader? next year’s trend prediciton: folktronica, tunng, and seashells.