Planting Along The Verge

The santa anas are back after a very short break but it’s warm and the sky turned from white to blue and the little boy and I took a walk around the neighborhood…

we stopped to chat with a dad and his baby in front of this beautiful little cottage.

we passed this lonely looking bear in a store window.

we climbed a tree and ran and found stuff to put in our pockets and then little man started throwing rocks at me. his aim is true. he was shorn of his beautiful locks this weekend. it gives him a kind of dangerous look.

then we came home and ate lunch and pet the dog and I pondered the fact that it is autumn on the other side of the world and that I am exactly in the middle of my life if I live to be 112 which I do believe is possible. My great grandmother lived to be 103 and she drank and smoked cigars. If I do live that long, I’ll take up drinking again and maybe cigars.

namaste

6 comments

we are the same age. i often say that if i live to be 90 i will start inhaling whatever i want again. but on this interminable day with so many dark thoughts hovering at the edges of my mind, i'm thinking maybe i'll lower that to 80. i am craving a floating serenity. which it never was of course. i love your pictures of your walk. your grandson is growing into a little boy, so precious and steady eyed. his true aim must come from his grandfather. i adore you dear yolie. i am sorry i am rambling so today but it is good to be here, basking in your goodness. xo

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I love how you say, “It gives him a kind of dangerous look,” (which it does, that short summer-boy haircut) and then show him lounging about having a little relaxation time with his pacifier and his dog.
God. He is gorgeous.

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He does look dangerous getting ready to throw a rock at his granny!

I used to have a chair like that red one, only green. We had several but they didn't make the move to Atlanta. Unfortunately. I love the bounciness of them.

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