Wednesday, 21 November 2018
I got the first dish going for our family festivities—on Friday…Friday works for everybody…. I ended up with about 2.4 dishes completed. I’ll be busy tomorrow!
As it turns out, we made two runs for “last-minute, forgotten” items. This was during the first. The second was after dark. If we can’t get by for the next two days on what’s here in the fridge and cupboards, we have lost perspective!
Saturday, 17 November 2018
I found the sky delightful today, and kept sending my eyes up. Mixture of tree species….
One glorious golden-leaved tree, bisected by power lines (and other lines)….
Male ginkgo, just beginning to shade from green toward yellow tones….
Friday, 16 November 2018
We finally had a break since the new “R” phones arrived to get to the store and fondle them. Gotta know how the phone feels in your hand before you invest. Did we invest? Nope; we both decided our current phones are “foine.”
I think of the big-leaved tree in our back yard as a basswood, and maybe it really is. Is there a particular weight/balance of the leaves such that they most often fall with the top side down?
Wednesday, 14 November 2018
Ghost pumpkins? Mummy pumpkins? On the other hand, maybe this design evokes a pop-culch meme I don’t know.
Red, red, red gerberas. With raindrops.
One more color!…because even with winter coming on, some plants remain green green green.
I especially like the pecan eyeballs on the right pumpkin. Aren’t pumpkins interesting when their essential orange-ness is removed?
Tuesday, 13 November 2018
There used to be what looked from the outside to be a perfectly fine brick house here. I used to admire the flowers and flowering shrubs in the front yard; it was all flower garden, with no grass. Lovely. When I came by last winter/spring and the shrubs were gone, with pits left where they had been, and scrabbly spots were I assumed someone had dug up bulbs and other plants, I thought, uh-oh, did someone die, or just leave, or what? Now I know. It’s a total replacement situation.
Here’s kudzu, pronounced something like kood-zoo. It’s a tenacious species, and even trying to persist here as the temperatures drop with winter coming. In full winter, it may lose its leaves, and will bounce back when the weather warms. I read somewhere that its roots can go thirty feet along under blacktop and thereby the plant can cross a paved road. Persistent.
Continuing the growth theme, here’re some brilliant-colored new fronds on an evergreen. Even in the overcast of an almost-rainy moment, they almost glow, the color is so vivid.
Title is a nod to Nobel economist Paul Krugman, who sometimes notes the wonkish level of his NYTimes columns.
Saturday, 10 November 2018
Winter roses, so decorative. Or merely autumnal?
There’s evidence of a project gone awry. That vine has been twining for months to get that high! Or was the ladder placed for the vine and not for a chore?
Thursday, 8 November 2018
I have never grown dahlias, and I do like them. They remind me of oversized starflowers (aka star flowers).
My conclusion when I saw this was that inflatable beasties can be afflicted with Seasonal Affective Disorder.
I didn’t intend an orange/pink color theme, but lookee there!
Sunday, 28 October 2018
Title refers not so much to geography as photo subject matter.
We sprang for a mechanical carwash over at the BP to reduce the grime accumulated yesterday on the Explorer. It was reduced, but not vanquished. Now, for better or worse, we don’t look like we’ve been out in our hunting camp.
I looked in the bird book, and still I don’t know what kind of waterfowl these are. My guess, from a place of extreme ignorance, is goldeneye or lesser scaup. I’m probably looking in totally the wrong section of the ID book, however.
I assume arachnid (eight legs). You can assume I was totally surprised when I looked at the photo as when I was taking it I was trying to get a good focus on the lichen, and totally missed noticing the critter.
I looked up the lichen, too, and I’m in over my head there, yet again. Maybe an eastern candlewax or a greenshield?
Saturday, 27 October 2018
Way at the end of this breakwater(?) is a navigation light. [Squint. And use your imagination?]
From what I have read these white pines were logged in the 1830s and 1840s—a darned long time ago. After the trees were cut and the logs removed, the remaining slash dried and burned, often with very hot fires leaving the already nutrient-poor sandy soils even more nutrient poor. Even today: rotting stumps and no forest.
