I haven't forgotten about the ABChallenge -- that is, I did forget for a while, then somehow got stumped for literally weeks on T. (Tea, far too obvious. But I'll have another cup, thank you.) Then I was reading the latest post over at Mr. Micawber's Recipe for Happiness, as one does, and enjoying vicariously, and somewhat wistfully, Mrs. M's countryside autumn, and I decided then and there to walk to Michael's for that skein of embroidery floss I need -- it seems a horribly long walk when you drive it, but it's only about half an hour there on foot, stop whining -- and that I would take my camera and photograph our Southern California signs of autumn. (This with a somewhat hollow laugh to myself, as it's difficult to photograph "brown-er," let alone a very slight nip in the air.) Well, things being what they were, I realized after not very long that what I was taking photos of instead was textures.
As it happened, I wasn't much looking forward to the walk itself, but I quite enjoyed the challenge. The above "texture" is, sadly but nobly, the remains of our front lawn, which we have not watered since the early summer of 2017 when water restrictions began to arrive. We are now waiting for the rest of the Bermuda grass to give up, and are making plans for planting a California-natives cottage garden. (To give some idea of the ex-lawn's lassitude, you can still see even a year later (!) the remains of our late and much-lamented camphor trees, wood chips and twiggy bits and a number of dried berries, which trees the city decided must be removed after having first trimmed the roots on the street side -- to fix the street -- and the sidewalk side -- to replace the broken sidewalk. Their explanation was quite logical -- the trees would have less than half of their roots left -- but it was with great difficulty that I restrained myself from flinging my arms around those two beauties when the chipper arrived. The crew were quite kind, though, and let me save large pieces of trunk, which are now curing on blocks in our garage. And a few months later, we did find two new saplings in their places.)
Blue chalk sticks (Senecio mandraliscae), in front of the public library, whose landscaping went drought-tolerant about two years ago.
Ah, here's a little sign of autumn! Golden leaves from some tree I don't know the name of, but I love the way the leaves have collected in the center of the young palm (Sabal mauritiiformis?) underneath it.
The wall of the railroad underpass.
A California live-oak trunk, wonderfully knotty and scarred. (It is called "live-oak" because it is not deciduous like most oaks.)
The only indoor photo, at my destination. The floss is stored in poky little cubbies, but the perle cotton is hanging on hooks and there is always a lovely variety of colors and that wonderful sheen I find irresistible.
A street tree, possibly some kind of eucalyptus, with fabulously shaggy bark twisting around its trunk.
Ah! another sign of autumn, hesitant as it is -- this is a new liquidambar in someone's front yard, only about six feet high so far, but curiously with leaves evenly distributed all of the way up and down its trunk, and today with a hint of brownish-red just beginning near the bottom.
There is a very small historic building, one of the first in town, that has been relocated to a small park in the civic center. 1887.
This is the grass du jour, it seems, but maybe that's because it has become invasive here -- I think it's Mexican feather grass (Stipa tenuissima, aka Nassella tenuissima.). A pity, as in swathes it reminds me rather deliciously of a golden retriever.
I love the Georgia-O'Keeffe-ness of this agave.
Fountain in front of City Hall.
This is a Southern California autumn!
And finally, back on my own front porch, a Kalanchoe tomentosa (chocolate soldier!) in a pot.
