Like many groc stores, the Buford Highway Farmers Market (without a single farmer in sight) puts flowers right by the front door. I think these MUST be dyed.
These, no. This is “their” color.
Sardines. No can.
Marinated apples. I wondered what the marinade was. Sugary and sweet? Sharp and vinegary? Wine?
Maybe next time I’ll buy one and see. They are in what I call the Eastern European section, but I may have my geography wrong. The Cyrillic script kinda gives it away.
Here’s more detail than I’ve ever recorded before of the body and lower prongs of a columbine bloom. I have learned there are little sparkles. I am happy to have more sparkles in my life.
Is this special for Lent? Rather strange to find it here in the ATL. Also unexpected that this Old World baked good is…New World flavored—pecan.
I couldn’t decide which order to present these photos. Which is another way of saying I couldn’t come up with a narrative.
So, I’ll play it safe. Weather.
We got through last night’s storm, wind and rain, but mostly just the front. I think it dissipated some before it got to our house. It raged in other neighborhoods. We were lucky.
Is this an unfolding peony? I’ll watch—more data….
Looks like the fantastically warm temps have brought out the horse troops. Clop clop. Better than mildew!
That’s a chandelier of stainless kitchen tools behind the plaster bust. Un-busted bust.
Someone (not me) made a late-day drone run to capture the soft light of the Golden Hour. This is the dark side of the Majestic at dusk, however. Isn’t that a green!
The world is perspective.
I’ve been meaning to note that the dogwoods are blooming. I have a soft spot for Cornus florida. [And the pears are about finished, leaves supplanting petals.]
Nice color in the sunset sky, but not terribly widespread. Still, I was moved by the orange-pink shading.
Title refers to my touring-Ireland research…spent some time today pondering the limestone plateau that is the Rock of Cashel….
We had a couple of cold overnights, cold as in below freezing. The hellebore made it through safely, or mostly okay.
The azalea must be more…delicate, though, as it is rotting.
The problem is that these are flowers and we’ll miss them, but this doesn’t reduce food production.
My lovely neighbor took me on a wee expedition this afternoon, in which we visited what I took to be a contemplative garden, Vietnamese Buddhist style. The eyebrows on this fellow went down past his knees. Astounding.
I’m guessing this guy has ear-wax buildup or ear-fleas…something dire.
However, I’m going to interpret this as a sign that it’s okay that I have no idea what these characters are intended to indicate, or symbolize, or whatever.
I’m an anthropologist in the dark on a sunny day.