Tuesday, July 6, 2010
I almost screwed the pooch this morning. I waited until it was too late to walk and that's just the truth. I wanted to take pictures so I took my camera and somehow stopping is worse than just keeping on going. Plus, I walked down to the river because I hadn't done that in a while and I wanted to see it. My soul told me to and so I did but I think I would have been better off if I'd checked with my physical being first.
Well, these things happen and I lived and I'm home and I went out to refrigerator in the garage and cut some melon for the chickens and found a Gatorade and I'm actually drinking it.
I haven't drunk Gatorade since I was in labor with Jessie and she's twenty-one years old.
Anyway, I got some nice pictures. Would you like to see them?
I hope so.
I took about fifty pictures of clitoria but only a few came out. I like this one a great deal
because as you can see quite clearly, the labia has been pierced. Plus, it's in focus. Relatively.
Here's one which you may have to click on if you want to see a butterfly sipping from the sweetest part of the flower.
And may I just remind all of us that flowers are indeed the sexual organs of a plant and if anyone has any doubt about evolution, I would just say to look at the clitoria and then gaze upon the clitoris and realize that we are not just related to the apes but to the flowers, too.
This may be biologically inaccurate but I believe it.
A Gulf Fritallary butterfly.
A dragonfly and I do not know his name. I have seen more dragonflies this year than I have ever seen before. Same with butterflies, I think. This one seemed to be following me or at least accompanying me on the path to the creek but indulged me by stopping and spreading his wings for me to take his picture.
Why do all butterflies seem to be female while all dragonflies seem to be male?
Swamp Mallow, I think. Obviously related to the okra, the hibiscus, the Confederate Rose.
The wild grapes. The foxes must be standing under them at night, plotting as to how to reach them. Foxes CAN climb trees, actually. And do. I think foxes must be crosses between dogs and cats. Again, biologically this may not actually be true.
And finally, the river. Or creek. Today it was a creek. Sometimes it is a river.
My soul is grateful I let it have its way, even if my body was not so happy at the time.
I always know it's there but sometimes I just have to go lay eyes on it to reassure myself.
If any of these pictures resonate with you and if you are looking for something to read, I recommend you go find a copy of either Cross Creek or The Yearling by Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings. No finer summer reading to be found.
Now. Excuse me. I have to go lay under a fan.