Now I think I'll read about flowers.
I made-- the way the book is structured is so--
they're just little short pieces.
Again, it was because I just wanted it to be--
with the exception of having to go over that difficult family
history--
I wanted the book for me to be somewhat of a respite,
somewhat of a way of getting away
from all of the sort of horror in the world around us.
And so I chose to write about these sorts of things.
The wildflowers are more numerous
than they've been in years.
The gold, yellow desert poppies are
pools of color in the emerald and jade green of the desert.
The white, six pointed Mojave desert
stars blossom on the first purple blue outcropping--
blossom first on the purple blue outcropping of rocks,
and form great constellations on the dark stone.
Desert chicory send up big, white ruffled flowers
amid the jojoba leaves that shade them.
Yellow fiddle necks, taller, larger purple frills,
and the twin blue violet lily light flowers of the Ajo
are also in bloom.
Lupins, lupins, lupins, purple, red, blue, even
taller than the orange poppies.
Tiny yellow flowers of the golden rod
fill the air with the scent of honey.
White desert zinnias bloom early,
and so does the rattlesnake weed with its small blankets
of tiny calico, red and white flowers.
Everywhere I see the tall stacks of white penstemons
that cover the rocky hillsides.
The pink and purple penstemons only
bloom in sandy, moist arroyos.
I found a small piece of white glass, polished smooth
by years of tumbling down the Arroyo over the sharp edges
of rocks and sand until it almost
looks like quartz crystal.
I found a piece of reddish gray basalt
with white calcite crystals in its center like an eye.
I spied a bright bit of turquoise
in the center of a bean sized reddish pebble.
Today,
March 5, 2008, I am 60 years old.
My mother and I shared this birthday,
and used to celebrate our birthdays together
whenever we could.
So I think of her today.
So let's see.