social distancing

only days ago, i would have seen this image and thought about a laughter-infused afternoon get-together with my high school girlfriends. now i see it and wonder which of the six chrysanthemums is the disease vector introducing the plague among us.

dried chrysanthemums 

the usual suspects

the perpetrator is a slender, brown adult winter stem between 18 and 36 inches tall, with a slight leeward lean. this is an all points bulletin. please round up the usual suspects.

assorted winter prairie stems

one tiny taste of florida

our spring break to florida was aborted almost as soon as we arrived. but there was an acacia tree loaded with seedpods overhanging the alley next to our rented townhouse. so as we packed five of us into the the rented mustang convertible, which we had to drive to the airport with the top open because we all had luggage on our laps, i was able to tuck a last minute bunch of acacia seedpods into my carry-on bag. everyone watched me do it, and no one complained. they all know how i feel about seedpods. even with coronavirus breathing down our necks.

seedpod collection

hiding in plain sight

this dried tulip blossom looks unassuming, but when i held it up to the window to photograph it with a little backlight, the veins in the petals suddenly looked like strands of seaweed combed over by a strong surf. i also made a repeating pattern of wallpaper with this image, and it’s absolutely beautiful. but when i resized it for sharing on the web, it lost so much detail that is made me dizzy to look at. so, i am retreating back the single image in all its tide-thrown glory.

dried parrot tulip blossom

make a grid, break a grid

one of the first rules a young graphic designer learns in design school is to make a grid. in the second year of school, she learns when to “make a grid, then break the grid” for specific and intentional ends. clearly, i am a first-year designer, with aspirations to be a second-year designer.

beach rocks