A Strange Land

There comes a time, in every woman’s life, when she realizes that if she wants roses, she should go and buy them herself.  The same is true for perfume, jewelry, expensive shoes ( ah, but I venture into the realm of fetish here), all those little luxuries, which we wait for someone else, some other, to provide as a token of affection.

Enough!  Break out of the cultural mold!!  Go buy your own roses!!

Especially, as they are such an inconsequential luxury and offer so much in the way of visual delight.  Sunshine for the soul, that debatable and debated entity.

Costco roses are as lovely as any others, as you can see.  As Shakespeare wrote, ” A rose by any other name…”.

The Heart of a Rose: studies in depth of field.

Deeper into the heart

I was engrossed in reading Stieg Larsson’s book “The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest”, the third novel in the Lisbeth Salander series.  Occasionally I would check my watch to see if it was really time to go to sleep…12:30AM…..2:00AM….3:00AM.  Eventually I looked up and noticed the horizon was getting light…dawn…definitely too late for a reasonable amount of sleep.  Guiltily, I shut down my kindle and resolved to sneak in at least a few hours of sleep.  Alas, it was dawn.  There was no way I was going to fall asleep, so I wandered over to my windows overlooking the valley and found fog lapping at the hillside.

Adrift in a sea of fog.