plaza blanca

i just returned from a weekend trip to santa fe, new mexico. i fell in love with o’keeffe country. i could happily have spent a year there doing STILL photos of that austere high desert landscape. we had a packed weekend itinerary, so i didn’t have much time for exploring and gathering. i brought home only two things. some quartz chips scavenged from a hike among the gypsum and limestone badlands that surrounded o’keeffe in abiquiú. and this twig i found at the base of plaza blanca, which struck me as a perfectly eloquent expression of the cost, and the stark beauty, of a life lived in the desert.

desert twig from plaza blanca, abiquiú, new mexico

when it rains…

in late may here in the north, we go from one spectacular show of opulent abundance to another without even catching our breath in-between. last week apple blossoms. this week trillium and lilac. i found this cluster before the florets opened–hoping for a slightly different take on the traditional grape cluster of a flower head.

lilac branch with un-opened flower cluster

classic combos

i have a special place in my heart for rhubarb. it is one of the first harvested plants here in the north. matter of fact, it is almost always harvested the week of my birthday (this week). so, as a kid, my mom always made me my favorite pie for my birthday–strawberry rhubarb, at my request, instead of cake. i just couldn’t get enough of the sweet-sour combo. and i still can’t. to this day, offer me strawberry rhubarb anything, and i’m in.

p.s. while in nyc for the james beard awards three weeks ago, i learned about something called “forced rhubarb” that caught my attention. i haven’t had time to follow up. oh, but i will…

rhubarb in may

bursting

i love how graphically this photo shows the nearly bursting quality of a plant about to bloom. there is so much quiet drama in the swelling buds and blossoms of spring and summer, aching with a fullness and tension that can’t last–like late-term pregnancy, like adolescence, like young love. something has to give, but it hasn’t quite yet, and meanwhile, there is this delicious state of youthful beauty, and anticipation, and nearly completed promise

allium flowers about to burst

yo! oy.

i am in love with the OY/YO sculpture by deborah kass in brooklyn, new york. in just two letters it seems to speak to everything that nyc is about–even more eloquently than I♡NY. these dandelions are a STILL blog homage to kass’s brilliantly simple work. If you haven’t seen the sculpture or heard of it, this article is a good place to start.

may dandelions