I'm not going to expound upon my morning which, much like many mornings, was an aggravating and upsetting one, filled with miscommunication, seizures, cancelled plans, and lots and lots of crying. After a cleansing call from my friend Heather, and more tears and jagged sobs, I headed out with Sophie for a walk, and while my eyes felt hot and my head pounded, I was cheered, once again, by our glorious weather here in Los Angeles. The skies were outrageously blue; I had a tee-shirt and sweater on that I had to remove and tie around my waist; the breeze was blowing and I thought to myself that if it weren't for the weather, I might be dead.
I had to take a picture of this very strange front "lawn" which was actually a cemented over yard in front of a 1920s apartment building. The owners had cut out circles and squares in which pathetic plants grew. Weird, weird, weird.
The thing about Los Angeles is the incongruity of the urban grit and riotous color, all thrown together no matter where you look. This crazy beautiful rose crept up a window in an otherwise dirty and decrepit yard.
The fall colors are fantastic -- and while they don't scream as loudly as they might in New England, the sweet-gum trees give us a bit of glory.
So, I'm not dead and have made it through another day. Here's to the morrow, as they say.