Indian Mustard Flowers
Met Michelle for our monthly Writing Saturday; it was great. I wrote a new scene for A Lamentation of Swans, 1,671 words. Doesn’t mean I’m returning to regular work on it–just had to write that scene. Have done some considerable slashing of pages on Sweet Taboo, and there’s more slashing to come. I’m not sure if I’m going to end up with a novel or a novella.
Spring has dipped her magic wand in canary yellow, waved it over the hills, ravines, ditches, the lumps and humps, stretches and patches of wild land bordering the freeway and painted the landscape with blossoming Indian mustard. It’s a lovely sight on the morning drive. As the freeway comes out of Long Beach and wends its way into the South Bay, tiny yellow blossoms blanket one particular stretch, and my eyes dance back and forth from the traffic to the beflowered pastures. I always notice the natural beauty struggling to survive amid the concrete megalopolis of Southern California. The Indian mustard that flowers every Spring, the lavendar jacarandas soon to bloom, the crown-shaped blue agave cacti, the jade eucalyptus trees lacing the sunlight–these are day to day blessings.