sunflower graveyard

this afternoon i drove out to adobe farms at 3:30 p.m. i always pass it on my way to work at that time of day and have noticed that the light was particularly beautiful then. also the birds are migrating in great clouds. from the road you can see the sea of marigolds beside the wide field dotted with pumpkins that were never chosen. ancient tractors are parked here and there, and beautiful rusted equipment once used for harvesting. a cloud of birds blew over me and the only sound it made was so well integrated with the air that it was more of a sensation than a sound. as i wandered along through the field i startled a jackrabbit out of the marigolds and wished my camera was better so i could zoom in on him and capture him, if only on film.
after the squash field, i came upon a quadrant of corn, and it wasn't until i passed that that i discovered, with a devilish and bedazzled sense of childlike delight and wonder, the sunflower graveyard.

"the mind factory, its give and take." ~finnegans wake

how fig trees are pollinated.

whether

every february a small carnival sets up in the fairgrounds parking lot just across from my house. the trailers and flatbeds start arriving on tuesday and by wednesday everything is up and running. usually by thursday i've got to wait until midnight for the rise and fall of screams to die down, and by sunday i'm filled with loathing for its monotonous music and neon.

this week's rain has turned the carnival sad and ghostly, has elicited from me a tenderness toward its empty swings and pointed tents, its tilting bear ride and dragon roller coaster for babies.


pictures such as these are better black and white.
















but on the periphery of the carnival, i came around to the back of a trailer. its occupant, in a desire to make a temporary home homier, had placed an artificial pot of sunflowers outside the door.

needless to say, this warmed my heart.

"flowers" (post-glimpse)

this is what happens: after seeing the word "flowers" written on my bank teller's hand the day after valentine's day (presumably so he wouldn't forget to buy his girlfriend flowers on that obligatory day), i become subsequently hyper-aware of "flowers." i become the goalie of "flowers." none get past me without my noticing them.

promising

the day after valentine's i went to the bank. i noticed, while my teller was doing my transaction, that he'd written the word "flowers" on the back of one hand. the word had partially faded, probably from his morning shower. i have thought about that fading reminder several times over the last few days. it is more pronounced in my mind for the fact that i glimpsed it faded.


this is a photo of my plum blossoms budding. it has been clothesline weather for days, though the forecast promises some rain. i like it both ways, i've developed a marked admiration for the weather in all of its forms. i suspect it's an age thing, for when i was child i remember puzzling over how fascinated adults were with the weather, and it seemed to me that the older the adult, the more fervent he or she seemed about the weather.

now i've arrived at the age of weather zealotry. i never check the forecast, preferring to get it by word of mouth. or just get wind of it on my own.