We're having evening temperatures in the low 40s. On Monday night, it's supposed to be in the upper 30s. Don't tell the flowers.      

This time to Garvan Woodland Gardens in Hot Springs, Arkansas. The gardens were stunning. 12 photos behind the cut.    

It's been a helluva week at work, and I worked at home for half of it.  When I work at home, it's because I have tediously detailed work to do, and I have to have quiet and no interruptions to get it...hair back before firing up the leaf blower, it gets sucked into the air intake of the damn thing and bending over to try to get it out isn't a good strategy. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Grammy's going night-night now

A lot of people - some of my family members included - think I'm a little strange to have continued for three long years tracing our family history. It's all about roots for me. I think it's a little...to those who lived on. Recording those legacies over the past few years has made me mindful that I too will leave something of myself behind. I'll make sure all the photos are labeled.   Namaste

Have you ever thought about how everything is cyclical? The earth revolves around it's axis every 24 hours. The earth moves around the sun every year. There are cycles of the moon. Menstrual Cycles. Traffic Circles Social Cycle Theory Environmental Cycle Theorys of Freeze and Thaw Life Cycles (which may or may not be complete) Cyclical Theories on Relationships (There is a name, but I can not think...

Warning: vaguely hippie post follows. ;) I have a fondness for, an affinity with, the turning seasons (yes, we get seasons in Australia). I tend to view time as cyclical as well as linear, a helix if...a new life of happiness and joy. Of small trips (except maybe Con) and gardening and learning about my new adopted culture. Sounds blissful after the adventuresome and the driven purposeful years.  

To see if the leaves were changing. Around the cottage, the poison stuff is. . . poison ivy, oak and sumac. The sumac is really pretty. Uh huh. And yes, I know that technically, our peak color isn't... And I lost my fricking glasses. Oh well. . . I can get new glasses. But nothing duplicates that.   I'd say it's a damn fine start to the season

The stones have a language all their own. A little girl with her arms broken off. She was barely 7. A very young mother, dead at 19. And her baby, not long behind her. A weeping... And a widow, certainly not much (if any) older than her husband when he died, who said, "How many hopes lie buried here."     Photos cross posted from mourning_souls .

A costume change, and we headed uptown to Neutral Grounds for our first gig in New Orleans. We finished our cigarettes, walked inside, and the first thing I saw was a large painting of Jack Kerouac. It's...quest, and the spirits told me this: this is all I can do, is be who I am. And what am I? A traveling, story-telling, accordion-playing, drunken little clown. Everything was going according to plan