Last post I spoke of a trip to the snow to escape the cold of Fresno. Here is a picture of my daughters with sun in their face. They are sad we have to return to fog.
Below is my typical look for winter. Four layers of clothing, a cat for good measure, and a sad face to complete the ensemble.
As the flowering trees are beginning to bud, I’ve noticed some haven’t yet lost their fall leaves.
Speaking of trees, these last two shots were taken at my daughter’s elementary school. What is odd about them?
Below is a closer look. They are all leaning in one direction except the last one. I’ve never noticed it before and she’s been a student here since kindergarten (she’s in 6th grade). When they built this school forty/fifty years ago, I imagine they planted a row of trees. Maybe the unstaked trees leaned from wind damage or who knows, other than it makes me scratch my head.
Poor thing reminds me a little of me. I always seemed to be a stand out kind of kid, and never in a good way. I’m still the odd man/woman out but this tree helped me in ways no self-help book could ever achieve. In today’s publishing market, you must stand out to get noticed. Yet, here I was, still trying to be a conformist, trying to blend in out of fear of being called out, exposed. No more. Expose me.
So here’s to looking at the glass half full; here’s to embracing my inner weirdness and harnessing its super powers of noticeability. Here’s to … oh heck. Please nobody listen to me until the fog clears. This happens every winter.