It’s pert near perfect here in south Florida. Blue skies, temps in the low 80s, mild breezes.

It just rarely changes. Don’t get me wrong, I love it, even though the sameness can wear on the nerves. Which makes me wonder if Heaven has thunderstorms.

So I’ve been outside working in the green stuff that never dies; there’s much to do this time of the year… the yard has to be mowed and everything cut back.

Before I attacked this mess o’ palms the only thing visible was green. A sea of green. Which is nice, but if let go they’ll become 10 feet wide.

People up north may have to shovel their driveways but at least they don’t have to mow their lawns in January.

I walked out the back door to find these little guys. Of course I ran back in to get some seed so they’d come close!

I’ve no idea how I got any pictures at all, though I shot 42! They’re like fuzzy little perpetual motion machines. And they still have their built in egg breakers on the ends of their bills!

There was another duck with them, a real arse who was mean to the babies; every time one came close he’d peck it, which made mama duck look his way or even peck at him if she was close enough.

Nah, it’s just another root.

It’s an ugly gray, cloudy day… but the foliage doesn’t care. Not as vibrant as it would be on a sunny day, it nevertheless lights up the murkiness like it’s on fire, shining through the heavy humidity.

Frankly, it drew me like a beacon from a lighthouse attracts shipwrecked sailors.

I am adrift until I see their beauty each day, the foliage around me.

This one looked like snakeskin to me…

No, sorry. I’m not a freaking poet. But sometimes the beauty of the ordinary is too much. It goes clean through me, slicing my feelings into edible bites. Then I’m transported, sitting on the sun porch of one of those Outer Banks rentals, swatting mosquitoes and drinking something cool; something with some fruit juice and a touch of vodka.

Oh, yeah. I’m nuts. Must be.

I love trees… except for these butt ugly things. The eight nasty trees growing beside my house are scary. And don’t even ask me what’s living up in those dead fronds.