The first time I saw a palm growing in its proper element was in LA. I was 12 and so awed by this otherworldly desert tree. There were rows of them down the sidewalks as casual as could be – slender, tall, reaching toward the ever blue sky.
These were shot in Santa Cruz, as crisply recalled by me, no doubt, as by countless carnival revelers.
In Santa Monica, where I imagine Barbie lives in a condominium and parks her convertible just outside the door…
I see birds, wind, a yellow sports car…
Can you spot the sliver of moon over Venice Beach? –
Something about that slice of sunset
drips down my throat like
sherbert.
It makes enticing promises, doesn't it?
The night is on its way
with the realization of
dreams.
These were taken in December 2007.
I am very much looking forward to being in California again.
Happy 2009 to everyone!
Thank you for this. I tend to take the palm trees for granted – they aren’t native, they don’t add much oxygen compared to good green leafy trees, and they need maintenance. Still, they are postcard-worthy.