The light at oh-dark-thirty this morning (Sunday version, and therefore later than on weekdays) was not muted by overcast, and I found the low-angle sunlight stabbing this mundane mailbox.
Several houses down a giant fig tree overhangs the sidewalk, and the fruit* is ripe and beyond ripe, pungent and attended by insects. Given the overpowering odor, I am not surprised that this food-producing tree was singled out early by desert people for harvest.
* Apparently not actually a fruit, but an infructescence, for those who do not want common usage to trump technical meanings. Speaking of meanings, our otherwise tame word sycophant has an etymological link to the fig, if the internets are to be believed.
The ripest in this cluster were my snack upon my return from my way-after-oh-dark-thirty walk this morning. The meteorologist said the humidity was at 90%, but I would have said higher. Scientific measuring devices tend to be less biased, however. (Note the Thai basil off to the right.)
Non-domestic critter activities noted this morning: cat napping in unplanted decorative planter next to the porch of a duplex; squirrel snacking on the welcome mat of an otherwise carefully manicured front garden.
* Apologies for the repeat theme.
Off again at oh-dark-thirty, with repeat encounters with folks from previous days (earlier loops, not later), and a sense that the profound humidity must be considered totally ironic when I think about the dry Midwest (and more of North America).
It’s atypical that landscaping in these parts includes succulents, but here’s a sample—enjoying the benefits of an overnight sprinkle.
We went out for dinner! (But we didn’t eat at the pig, which was across the foot-bridge.) JCB & I went to JCT.
The story: a big rainstorm right before rush hour switched traffic lights to red and orange blinking sentinels. And Georgia drivers think that they both mean stop (sigh), so red…most everywhere.
Someone doesn’t think as highly of mushrooms as I do.
When I left at oh-dark (a little later than yesterday), I thought I might take a today-picture to go with this yesterday-picture, since mushrooms at this stage grow so quickly—a tidy example of change over about 24 hours.
However, I discovered that all the ’shroom stems and caps from this yard were piled in the street next to the curb, plucked from life and discarded.
So, the story turned out differently than I had…hypothesized….
At oh-dark-thirty, I saw joggers, runners, stretchers (don’t know if they became joggers or runners) a couple of dog-walkers, and a few mushrooms—yes, we’ve had that much rain.
And, oh boy, is there humidity!
Mangosteen. Rambutan. Monstera (here: Mostera, but really Monstera deliciosa).
Yeah, I admit—photos from the other day at the veggie place—these are a selection of the tropical fruits. Ehem, rambutan is NOT a typical GA offering….
During yesterday’s veggie trek, I spotted this winsome goat. Gold-quality in 2011, but unknown this year….
I don’t know that I’ve ever tasted goats’ milk butter. Ice cream, yes (once; home-made (long story)), but butter—no.
One of those days…
(Just a visual (no content).)
Although I do want to note that Porch Time plus Patio Pizza is…Great Stuff—in fact, the best arithmetical operation that exists….