Spring has come. During a break in the rain, I ventured out to take some photos. A beautiful Western bluebird pair flew among the tall trees and even paused for a moment to pose … and then ponder. #birding
Potential. A humble grape, with its meaty flesh sealed tight by a waxy skin, waits. This cluster, in mid-winter, missed the harvest. Missed the chance to be pressed and bottled into fine wine. Missed the chance to be sniffed and swirled and boasted over. Instead, the cluster remained clinging to the vine. Instead, it waited…
As of last weekend, only 400 monarchs were at the sanctuary. But those butterflies who remain pay no mind to their missing companions. They are enjoying these early days of spring. #pacificgrovemonarchs
If the long shadows across the water didn’t give away that the sun was preparing to set, the little otter making her bed for the night did. She took the term “kelp bed” very seriously as she twirled herself in the algae seaweed and drifted off to sleep. #otters
Despite the success of the other birds and beasts, over all this time, I had never seen him actually catch anything. Until now.
Valentine’s Day is coming. And our minds turn to all those romantic images of love: hearts, roses, cupid, maybe a dove or two. But I don’t see doves very often. And when I do, they are usually mixed within the huge flock of pigeons that are scrabbling for birdseed under someone’s feeder. Not very romantic….
They said that I would know when it was time. But they did not warn me of the agonizing pain that would come with it. #goodbye #petloss
An evening in the garden at the Monterey Museum of Art at the La Mirada mission birthed striking shots of these lovely beauties.
She watched us from her post –impatience on her brow, pollen on her chin. Our work in the garden bed was keeping her from the red blossoms of her sage. And there was still plenty of feasting to be done.
We were excited about this wine: a Louis Jadot Puligny-Montrachet 1984. It had sat quietly waiting in the darkness of the cellar where flecks of mold found their way along the label. But the contents remained clear. As we poured the wine into our glasses, we marveled at the intenseness of its color made ever more brilliant by the final rays of the setting sun.
We sat, quiet, watching the afternoon sun throw gems through the church windows of our wine.
I don’t know if Little Richard is practicing the principles of tai chi and is rusty about the Golden Rooster Stands on One Foot maneuver or if he is merely airing out his slippers. In any case, this little Mille Fleur d’Uccle bantam rooster lives up to his hype. In French, “Mille Fleur” translates as “Thousand…