The ravine just west of our apartment is filled with sunshine at its brim, but who knows if the light is reaching its depths. E and I are still searching for a way down.
Its slopes are bursting with all sorts of flora. This includes (as always everywhere in coastal California) obscene amounts of sourgrass (yellow woodsorrel), which I proceeded to munch on during my walk home on Friday (when I took these super high-quality photos with my phone). I got some weird looks from people driving by, as if they had never seen a girl walking along eating a bouquet of flowers before.
Some buttercup sisters, lookouts for the garden on the other side of this fence...
And some California lilacs.
Every time I walk home from class (a bit of a lengthy downhill hike), I'm completely surrounded by this beauty. There are flowers everywhere, and beautiful gardens, and then I get to the ravine, and it's like I'm looking at a whole other world. I am surrounded by sunlit fields and shady groves; delicate buds and tough, woody shrubs; echoing screeches of hawks to my right (the ravine) and sweet vibratos of smaller birds to my left (the gardens). The contrast and diversity of Mother Earth makes itself known to me, and I am reminded that I am just another piece of her puzzle, and all the complexity about me is also within me. In every world--in every forest, and every person--there is fragility and there is strength, and they do not always present themselves as such, nor do they exist independently. Every piece falls into its place, no matter how it is perceived, and each and every piece is needed to compose this wild, beautiful symphony.
Also, while doing some internet research in order to verify that those were lilacs (the growth pattern of the leaves didn't seem to match up at first), I came across the magic of bluebells. My gosh, do places like this actually exist? This is not really a rhetorical question, by the way; it appears that these are native to Europe, mainly Britain, but has anyone ever seen a bluebell wood in California? If I get an answer to this question *I'm going there*. This image is the stuff of fairytales.
Back at my parent's home, it's apparently teepee building weather for my little sister (It's actually always teepee building weather for my little sister).
Also at my parent's home, my other little sister's cockatiel, Machiavelli, has been behaving inappropriately.
Whenever I'm there, I wake up to his funny little singing, along with the distinctive whistle of some feathered friends I've come to call sweetie birds, so named because (simply) they sound like they're saying "sweetie, sweetie" when they chirp. Always two sweeties, never just one. I *think* they're chickadees, but since I never actually see them, I'm not sure. No matter. It brings a smile to my face regardless, as if they're sweetly nudging me along in the process of waking up.
Here's hoping Spring is weaving just as beautiful a symphony wherever you are.
xoxo
Maralah
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