Hot Stuff

[rejectomorph]

My neighbors yanked out a hedge, and my room is suddenly much more airy and brighter. There's a view down the block now, too. The deer will probably not be pleased about this change as the hedge was made of plants on which they browsed, but I haven't seen very many deer this year anyway. As more houses are built between here and the canyon, their presence discourages more and more animals from coming this way. The foxes quit visiting ages ago, and I hardly ever hear coyotes anymore. Even the raccoons, who love to raid the garbage cans, are fewer than they once were. I'm surprised that the deer have been as persistent in visiting the block as they have been over the last few years. Now they'll have one less reason to come here.


Since I'm on the subject of animals, here's a picture of Charles Gay being devoured by lions. Well, OK, he isn't being devoured exactly. He's being toyed with, or is himself toying with the lions, or Charles Gay and his lions are all toying with one another. The c1923 photo, from the UCLA website that displays photos from the L.A. Times collection, depicts Mr. Gay, proprietor of Gay's Lion Farm in El Monte, California, and five of his beasts. The caption does not say whether or not any of the lions depicted were among those of Mr. Gay's cat cohorts who appeared in movies during the era.


Early this morning the sky was filled from horizon to horizon with sheep clouds, but they all vanished before I woke up. I was hoping that at least a few clouds would linger nearby into the afternoon, but there are none—not even small white puffs hugging the distant mountain ridges. Not even June and already the afternoon sky is arid, a hovering blue desert traversed by the blinding sun.

Comments

[saltdawg.livejournal.com]

the air here, at home, is heavily scented by the wisteria perfume.

My mother tended those wisteria next door for the first twenty three years of my life. People used to come from the surronding towns to take cuttings. When I was small, I was wont to try to chase them off. They were ours, after all, but my mother would scold me when she'd catch me in the act. She, being a member of the local gardening club, would tell me that we had plenty of flowers to share.

Anyway, when I catch myself actually enjoying the scent, I find myself thinking about your journal.

[rejectomorph]

We could have had wisteria at the house where I grew up, too, since it grows lavishly in southern California, but we ended up with bougainvillea instead. I don't remember that having any scent at all.