First Jacaranda of the season seen. When I was on the fourth or fifth floor of our building at work, looking north as we do here in the south, towards the mountains, which we don’t always get a view of, since we’re most always looking sideways through the smaug. YES, smaug. Some say smog. Smoke Fog. But, see, or not, it’s not fog, so, fuck you. It’s pollution that’s trapped air particulates herding against the mountain cup. Cup. Like coffee. Stolid. Still. An armpit. Unless the wind counter clockwise from the north, northern Utah/Nevada, blowing down and in, speed increasing as it reaches our area, the mountains, the Santa Anas, or Santanas, both are correct, we won’t see the mountains too readily.

          Green. There is green. And, it’s noticeable around the PURPLE of the incredibly messy Jacaranda bloom. The tree is a terror on white concrete, turning it black. But beautiful. Yes. There is that. Contrast: Green/Purple. You see the one because of the other. Nice how that works out. Jacaranda, which no one can pronounce, Hard J or soft h. Your pleasure, preference, or ignorance, the same. Doesn’t matter. Just, when they drop, they drop like batshit. It’s crazy, all over the place, and, appropriately for nature taking a, it spits on you. This beautiful tree. HA! Yeah, the sperm of the tree or whatever the fuck it is, ruins car paint, etc. Spits wet on your head, if you’re not careful. Don’t walk or park underneath these beautiful wonderful trees.


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