“It was as true,” said Mr. Barkis, ” as turnips is. It was as true,” said Mr. Barkis, nodding his nightcap, which was his only means of emphasis, ” as taxes is.”
― Charles Dickens, David Copperfield
I have always been interested in places that are aligned with the rising and setting sun at certain times of the years – such as Dallashenge. Here’s one I didn’t know about.
I remember when Photon opened (1984) in a little industrial park on Northwest Highway at Shiloh – it was an amazing thing, given the technology of the day. The playing field was cool – darkened structures, fog machines, custom music. We used to get groups to go play – it was a blast. We would go play a few games then come back to my place and sit in the hot tub. I gave up on it when some obsessed kids became so skilled from playing every day it ruined the experience for everybody else.
The hidden beauty of flowers: Microscopic images reveal the alien landscapes to be found on petals, pollen grains and leaves
A vegetable garden in the beginning looks so promising and then after all little by little it grows nothing but vegetables, nothing, nothing but vegetables.
This last weekend, after grabbings a couple shots of the fashion shoot next door, I met up with my friend and we wandered the Dallas Farmer’s Market, Nikons in hand, taking photographs of what caught our eye. What I saw first was the vegetables (other subjects to follow in the dreary days ahead).
Some sheds at the market feature fresh local produce, others produce dealers – so I suppose what you get isn’t too much different than what you see in your local supermarket, but it looks so much more ripe and delicious lined up there in split-wood baskets in front of the trucks with hand-lettered cardboard signs. The vendors hawk their wares – holding out sample chunks of melon or wedges of grapefruit they cut in front of you with pocketknives. You can’t help but smile and salivate at this cornucopia of wonderfulness.
Filling bags with food to take home is one thing – buying fruit and eating while you walk around is another, a sweet treat – blueberries, tangerines, peaches and plums – all designed to nibble and stroll, packaged in their own skins, ready to give up their juice and pulp.
An onion can make people cry but there’s never been a vegetable that can make people laugh.
—- Will Rogers
Ripe vegetables were magic to me. Unharvested, the garden bristled with possibility. I would quicken at the sight of a ripe tomato, sounding its redness from deep amidst the undifferentiated green. To lift a bean plant’s hood of heartshaped leaves and discover a clutch of long slender pods handing underneath could make me catch my breath.
– Michael Pollan
Shall I not have intelligence with the earth? Am I not partly leaves and vegetable mould myself.
—-Henry David Thoreau
In our gardens, Lord Ganesha sends His power through fruits and vegetables, the ones that grow above the ground, to permeate our nerve system with wisdom, clearing obstacles in our path when eaten. The growers of them treat it like they would care for Ganesha in His physical form.
—- Hindu Deva Shastra, verse 438, Nature Devas
I think of New York as a puree and the rest of the United States as vegetable soup.
This cabbage, these carrots, these potatoes, these onions … will soon become me. Such a tasty fact!
Cabbage: a familiar kitchen-garden vegetable about as large and wise as a man’s head.
Imagination is the real and eternal world of which this vegetable universe is but a faint shadow.