Time for another installment of Everyday Art. It’s really just a few pics I’ve taken with my Iphone recently. I try to capture “art” when I see it, even if no one else sees the beauty in it, each photo means something special to me.
You would have to have the pulse of a barnacle if you can’t see the beauty of the ultrasound photo on top. That photo was taken just over a week before the larger photo on the right. Isn’t it just amazing? And no, I won’t apologize for reposting pictures of my nephew. He rules.
The next photo down, the one of the the dog on the river… let me tell you why I love this picture. 1) That is the Yuba River, where I was practically born and raised. Some of my earliest memories are from the river. I said my first cuss word near that very spot (blame it on Dad). I know a lot of people love the ocean, but for me, I’d rather be on a lake or the river. 2) That dog in the picture, his name is Buck. He’s my brother’s dog and he’s just over a year old. Earlier this summer Buck found a large rattlesnake and got bit on his front leg. He got bit bad. His poor leg swelled up like a turkey-leg and we weren’t sure if he would make it. My brother and I hovered over him for about 3 days and then on the 4th day he was back to running around and being his goofy self. Buck loves the river and it made my heart happy that he was still around to go down to the river with us.
The last photo is hard to explain. Oh, it’s a pretty enough picture all by itself. One of the guys at work gave them to me and I was excited to eat them. But to explain to you why white peaches are such a strong memory to me would take some time. The short version is this, we grew white peaches on our farm. I can tell you all about white peaches. They are often a variety called Babcock. They are freestones. They bruise much more easily than other varieties of peaches and they taste like a mixture of honey and floral perfume. The are best eaten on the firmer side, just a hair softer than an apple. And Hmongs LOVE them. They bought up roughly 90% of the peaches we grew and the really interesting thing about it is this… they buy them green and then pickle them! They won’t buy them if they have even one little bruise on them and they can’t be ripe at all. They must be under ripe, almost green. Can’t say I ever tried one of those pickled peaches, can’t say I ever will have the desire, but I cannot see, smell or eat a white peach without remembering the Hmongs coming to the fruitstand, all piled into their mini vans to buy white peaches.
And that’s my Everyday Art. Hope you stop to see the beauty in your everyday too.