For my Fall 2020 students at UC Davis.
So, I don’t remember what day it was, but that doesn’t really matter as I can check the timestamp on my images, but I won’t do that because it really doesn’t matter what day it was. It was a day I left the lockdown.
I don’t remember what month it was. I self-isolated around March 20, 2020. I say ‘around’ because I don’t recall the exact day, and I had to stick in a dentist appointment which meant that I had to start the lockdown countdown over again, but for the sake of brevity it was March 20. Or March 18.
All that really matters here is that I left the house and I took a walk. Not a long walk, but a walk around the block, though not the whole block because my house is in the middle of the block. So I left the rear exit into the alley with my camera, not sure what camera but the EXIF in my images knows. It was either the Nikon D200 or the D40, but most likely the D200, or it could have been the Canon SL1.
So, I’m no longer sure of the exact order of things, though my timestamps would know, and there’s a discarded peace lily story in here; the lily was shot either first or last, but I’m opting for last.
As I walked down the alley, it was only half a block, I started taking pictures. Though I speak of some plants and flowers with familiarity, there are many right within the neighborhood that I cannot identify, and that’s okay. What I miss not knowing in ignorance of their names is made up in the capture of their visual wonder. At least, that’s the plan.
Though perhaps a bit mundane, I start taking snapshots. Click-click-click-click…
I cross the street, for something has caught my eye…Isn’t that sweet! A young bird of paradise…?
Now I’m headed back home, while meandering down and across the street. There’s a lot to see, the choices are many, and varied. I’ve stumbled onto some hibiscus just begging for some attention.
Crossing the street to my house, I take a few last parting shots in the garden and up the walkway. I have no idea what these flowers are but they have a choreography that cannot be denied. They delicately dance on their stems, they dance in the shadows, they dance in the light. And if you seem to keep running into alliteration in these posts, it’s a deliberate dip in the dance.
Let’s face it. This wouldn’t be Savanna without the Spanish Moss and Resurrection Fern, but let’s not forget the Crepe Myrtle, popping up everywhere with punches of pink, lavender and magenta. While it’s not one of my favorite trees, perhaps because I am not a true Southerner, only mildly invested in the culture and cuisine, or perhaps because I greatly miss the purple haze of the Jacaranda; it is, nonetheless, a lovely, delicate display akin to Southern charm and hospitality.
Perhaps I digress, but from what might that be, seeing that my reflective essay is a contemplative one?
Oh, lo and behold, a crapload of caterpillars destroying whatever they’ve found. They’re so cute…
It was a lovely walk, perhaps only 30 minutes, but it got me out of the house. There were people about, unmasked, not in my immediate space. I took one more photo heading up my walkway. What can I say, but that it was a welcome reprieve, though a but unnerving with pedestrian traffic and nonchalance in the air while an airborne virus has begun its slaughter across the nation.
It’s almost like the Death Angel roaming the streets of Egypt, looking to snatch some unwitting soul who dared depart from the blood-covered doorway that Passover eve, only this time extending those icy fingers far beyond that singular historical moment, across all the streets of America. We’re forced to draw our lines between practicality and paranoia. Yet, surely, this, too, shall pass.
I knew that when I would get home, I would not walk like this again, Not for a while, a long while.
On the balcony… I brought back this lonely lily from trash in the alley maybe two years ago, not knowing what kind of plant it was. Someone had thrown it out, yet it was green and seemed worthy of rescue. I put it on my balcony with a poinsettia rescue I have yet to see bloom. It turns out this was a peace lily, as it’s blooming like crazy now. The poinsettia may bloom this winter, I hope, and perhaps the confederate jasmine will, too.
I’ve religiously been twisting the jasmine vine, only recently learning that the entire plant seems to carry strychnine 😬 up and over the railings. I’ve only ever seen one flower on it, but the vine is now about 25 feet long and, since this type of jasmine blooms from December to May, I expect it to really perform this year. I love the smell of this jasmine. It’s like the night jasmine that intoxicates you for block after block as you ride with the top down nights across Ventura.
Now back to the lily…ahhh…
Peace, out.
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