i’m in palm springs
i’ve left behind one of the greenest minnesota springs i can remember for the california desert, and 100-plus degrees. trying to remember what i was thinking when i booked this trip. also actively hot flashing. little ice, please?
in america a silver bullet is an ice cold coors light in an aluminum can. in southern france it was an ice cold mackerel in a fishmonger’s tray. i have my preferences, which i will not disclose.
going with the flow
these flowers stood tremblingly above the water of the orb river while the aquatic vines they grew from writhed in the current below. i’m sure mr. darwin could help me see why this particular niche had to be filled in this particular ecosystem, but i couldn’t see any natural advantage to it other than beauty. it was a good enough reason for me.
aquatic river weeds with blossoms
sometimes the shallowest wounds are the most visible. cut your finger, and every semi-stranger will ask about the band-aid. harbor a grief you can’t get past, and best friends might distantly suspect.
wounded mulberry plane tree leaf
go kiss the person you love. tell a couple of old friends who aren’t expecting it how much they mean to you. linger over coffee. make something. don’t look at email. don’t read the news. have the kind of day you wouldn’t regret if this were the last of them. we all know how this ends.