She Kept A Parrot

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Clay Pots In The Garage

              I intended to say something about this mess up at the top, but I cannot figure out how to make the first photo move down a line!   Aaaugh!!    Just posting some odd photographs that don’t belong anywhere.  I seem to have lots of them.  I have to tell you the story of my narrow escape from the Clerk Of Court, but not tonight!… Read More

It ought to be immediately obvious that I am a shameless old woman.  Otherwise, I should hide behind the hairless cat Gravitar.  I have to admit that I did a pass or two (maybe a few more, actually) with the “smoothing” tool.  The thing was just too hideous to post without a little digital “powder”.  My teeth are not quite so white and my skin not so smooth by a long shot,… Read More

I know this man.  We affectionately call him “Listo as does his family.  His given name is Ruben.  He is a laborer in the concrete business.  He works for us.  He is a shy, brown-skinned man with beautiful, curly hair and large deep eyes.  He is a solid block of a man who keeps to himself.  He doesn’t talk to me, but I imagine that I know him.

Eva with the sparkling eyes.  So full of enthusiasm and good humor.  She was passionate about everything including ear piercings.  Ah, Eva, I wonder where you are.

Lisa was always smiling. She seemed to be the “mother” of the group although she was about the same age as the others.

Shots From My Car Window  #2

Sarah at the Hardback Cafe window. She immersed herself in the everyday drama of the cafe. What fun she had there!

Until I acquired a parrot of my own, I was always a little intimidated by the pointed upper mandible, especially in the larger species.  I had no idea that the tip of the upper mandible is the most sensitive part of the bird’s beak.  He gauges the texture of whatever he’s exploring with the tip in order to decide how much pressure is required to crack a nut or to take a… Read More

Creeping Carolina Trumpet The vine in the pergola reveals its tentacles only in the bareness of winter.  In spring and summer, hidden beneath a benign tapestry, it patiently forces apart joints in the framework attaching itself in an indiscernible, slow-motion drama of destruction.  I am torn between the fear of its steady invasion and the lure of its evil promise of coral trumpets. (click image to enlarge)

Fan Palm Frond Fan Palm Bloom

Toad Mr. Toad sitting on my kitchen counter contemplating his reflection in the toaster.   (Click on image to enlarge)