This has got to be the silliest thing I have drawn in a while, but sometimes the ridiculous ideas are the ones that come to you just as you are falling asleep, and who am I to refuse the insight of the semi-conscious brain? The semi-conscious brain craves excitement; the semi-conscious brain wants seagulls to ride on thrilling rogue waves through the ocean; the semi-conscious brain creates the conditions in which one can dream about skiffs, flying machines, magical bakeries.
We are starting to finalize my book tour, so keep an eye out for more information on that soon. Meanwhile some of my ranunculuses finally shot up buds, which I hope will not be harmed by the projected cold temperatures tonight. February in Tucson is chaotic; it wheels between 80 degrees and 28 degrees. The desert, I guess. My kale is doing gloriously, as are the pea plants, and someday soon it seems like the endless supply of calendulas will begin to flower as well. Every year I toss in handful upon handful of poppies, but this year they have really gone haywire, which is to say, a lot of them are growing, and I can’t wait for that to play out across the spring months. Poppies are a temporary pleasure: juicy and buoyant, but easily blasted apart by light wind.
The coming year is shaping up to be more of a regular year than the past two, and I am of two minds about it. Still worried about the ongoing pandemic, and now much more easily drained by travel and socializing of any kind. But also excited to venture out into the world a little, and try to shake myself out of the bunker mentality that has such a firm grip on me, now.
Enjoy the ups and downs of the season; enjoy the fruits of the semi-conscious mind; enjoy the seagulls, if you’ve got them. We have hawks here, riding the wind with great enthusiasm. Good for the hawks.