Dorothy was right.

there's no place like home.
[that photograph was considerably tweaked. cos it was dark.]

Ruskin Mill, so beautiful i simply had to share

my walk to work takes me past an exquisite woven fence

where the bumble bees hang out

it's going to be an excellent year for elderberries

 luminous clematis

 fields of flowers

hanging rocks

paving that reminds me of home

enormous trout lurking in calcium-rich water

[the green is a clue]

intriguing people in the forest

[very quiet.]

buildings that look as if they are literally growing from the ground

and a fabulous place to work.

the studio is behind that semi-circular window

+ + +

and at the end of the day

there is a very friendly cat

 

somewhere just to the left of the middle

here in Sedona, Arizona

there are lots of junipers

some interesting oaks [i think the one i spotted was Quercus turbinella]

hills that look like painted backdrops on movie lots

and many red stones

the houses look as though they might be adobe

but when you get close enough to tap the walls

they sound hollow. that ain't no mud.

drifting along highway 89a after work the other night

i noticed some radical pruning [ie to ground height]

of the roses in front of the Red Planet Diner

so i liberated some of the leaves

weather or not

don't like the weather in Cleveland?

wait five minutes...

making sense of the whirled [another day at the office]

today i gathered leaves. slowly and literally 

one . by . one

from the streets of San Francisco

i went out into the whirled with the firm intent

of running a few errands such as

stocking up on reeds from the music store

 looking for interesting papers for the class at Goleta

and seeing if there was anything my students might find useful

from the fabulous Goodwill store down on Fillmore

instead i wandered down my favourite thoroughfare

[Memory Lane, where the potholes have been filled,

the roses are flourishing and fragrance fills the air]

i visited old friends [magnolias in bloom, mahonias in berry]

 

and discovered that it seems my feet know San Francisco

rather better than they know the city where i was born

- in Melbourne i have to carry and refer to a map, while

here my feet just wayfind whilst i am thinking of other things

i found a harakeke [New Zealand flax a.k.a Phormium tenax] 

that was raining flowers and 

the universe kindly provided a clean baggie passing on the breeze

[helpfully labelled "buttons"]

 

i found my heart high on a hill

admittedly a little tubbier than when i last saw it

and a bit ratty around the edges

but still quite serviceable

despite being wind-dried and a bit flat

i also found a nice clean piece of cotton string.

i very nearly filled a book with graphite rubbings

[thanks Roz for making me buy that bargain-priced 

book of Khadi papers in Melbourne the other day]

 

i sat awhile on the Greenwich steps by Russian Hill

where some thoughtful person has installed a small

Japanese-style water feature, and

listened to the parrots chattering in the treetops

- they call them the parrots of Telegraph Hill

but [like me] they like more than one hill in San Francisco

     

wandered past the Asian tailor

who has been closed for at least 36 years

- checked that the windows remained unchanged

it is good to have a few constants in life

   

and went to have an Africano

[to my mind the best coffee in San Francisco]

in my favourite haunt near Washington Square

 

where i couldn't help but overhear

the woman at the next table

extolling the virtues of something she'd recently consumed

stating in rapturous tones that it had been

"godlike, made by the ancients"

and then bizarrely opening a discussion about

"that artist, you know, the Alabama mumbler"

which reminded me of another "mumbler"

encountered [also in San Francisco]

on the shady side of 35 years ago when i kept spotting a somewhat eccentrically dressed woman [yes, yes, i know that's rich coming from me] who would appear as if by magic, mumbling something unintelligible, scrape brickdust or paintflakes or stonechips carefully from a wall, place the harvest in a small plastic bag and secrete is about her person.

i thought she was a fruitloop.

and now i am her. 

pottering about the streets

gathering leaves and dried berries from the pavements

singing to myself

enjoying another day at the office.

+++ sharp-eyed readers may notice the publication date on this blog is a bit kerfoops at present. it's because i am [literally and metaphorically] wandering yesterdayland while my MacBook is all set for the whirled of tomorrow, on Australian time +++

on the other side

it was a bit hard getting away

Miss Martha was not best pleased

and made no secret of it

cattle class on the plane was even more vile than usual

the tubby gentleman occupying the seat next to me had seven elbows

and an overly liberal attitude to the passing of wind

- thank goodness for the adjustable air thingy

i stitched a lot

to try and get my dress ready for here

not quite Alabama Stitch Style

but i'm thinking it will need those strong surface elements

if it is to carry off a forest floor of leaf prints

 when i finally reached San Francisco

after the obligatory hour-long shuffle through LAX

[not a criticism, i quite understand the need to be cautious about letting gypsies like me cross the borders]

i was delighted to find an exquisite exhibition

at the airport

all about the acoutrements of hand-sewing. 

i decided it was a SIGN.

i headed for the great outdoors

and a glorious day, full of happy bouncing dogs

weather that played peekaboo with the Bridge

between bouts of brilliant sunshine

i wandered a long way

to make up for hours in the sardine can

found a lovely burgundy-leaved form of Agonis flexuosa

which would be a joy in the dyepot

yielding lovely colour as well as a delicious peppermint fragrance

[i think i shall be checking the pavements near here

when i'm ready to dye that frock]

  

found an abundance of rust

 

some lovely stones to stack

and more irresistible images

[using the polaroid filter on the batfone]

words of wisdom from William Blake

and finally

just to make certain that i really was in the right place

i found the 'four winds'

marked on the pavement

near Fort Point