I drove to Arizona a few nights ago to visit my mother. She lives in a place called Sun City, not far from Phoenix. I drove after work and the desert night, lit by an almost full moon, kept my car cool. Rosie appreciated this and snored away in the back seat for most of the trip.
Last night my mother and I ate dinner at an Italian restaurant called Babb'o. I thought this was funny because, in Korean, "babbo" means stupid. We waited for a table in the unusually packed restaurant. Apparently the Tuesday night spaghetti and meatball special draws in a crowd. I stared at the back of the neon 'Open' sign until we were seated, trying to decide what I was in the mood to eat. I ate the spaghetti and meatballs. I understand why Tuesday nights are so packed at Babb'o.
I drove back to LA today. I listened to a cd of Fleetwood Mac's greatest hits at least four times in the car. I bought it at Walmart yesterday before dinner.
This is a pile of wood chips. I've been carving a block of ash on my balcony and sweep regularly with my bamboo broom. The wood is so hard, even harder than I first imagined. Yesterday I was told that baseball bats are typically made of ash. Makes sense. The pile is growing, little by little.
This bird has been appearing in the field next to my apartment building the last few days. This morning it is perched on a tree next to my balcony. It's so close that I opened the sliding door very carefully as to not make too much noise.
I think it's a heron. It's still there as I write this. Perfectly still, like a statue.
I appear to be a little fixated with banjos right now. References to this instrument have been making their way into most of my recent blog posts. (eg. "St Francis was such a talented banjo player...", "Ferns remind me of bluegrass; I can hear banjos in the distance..."). But when I visited a music store that specialized in folk and unusual instruments, I couldn't help snapping a picture of the banjo wall. I share it with you now.
This store was amazing and so unexpected. It sold dulcimers, sitars, djembes, irish harps and mandolins. It even had lutes.
This is my favorite picture right now. It's a 14th C stained glass depiction of Saint Francis of Assisi preaching to birds. I've always harbored a fondness for Saint Francis. I'm named after him. (Middle name). He's the patron saint of animals and the environment.
Look at this particularly charming owl / falcon hybrid with a lion's mane. I wonder what Francis is saying to his aviary congregation.
I think it's remarkable that this jurassic-looking plot of ferns is only around the corner from my home. I pass it when I walk Rosie in the morning. It's common for the sunlight to refract in the mist rising from the plants at that time of day.
