Our new additions to the farm. Araucana’. Big blue eggs in their future, and ours. This is the fine increase of nature’s way around here. And these start as a couple of feathery, airy, bubble fuffs in your palm. Life chirps at you and you should probably grab Zorba’s zither and dance or cry.

Sometimes you just need your day brightened by a gleeful Shaker gal. Halloween preparations begin. Photo courtesy of my magic wife.

We spent an afternoon with Rudy and Nancy as well, and it was the cactuses that brought us there. It was early on in our tenure here in Lincoln Heights. Ilse was amazed by the cactuses and intrigued by another inveterate gardener in our neighborhood. She made me go up and knock on the door. Rudy was a bit surly at first, wondering who the hell I was and looking to me like a chicano version of every happy thought I have of Charles Bukowski, dirty white shirt and boxers and brown socks and all.  But Nancy came to the top of the stairs and looked down and immediately, upon my remarks of the wonderful garden, we were invited into the wonder of their place. The girls played with the mountain of cans Rudy collected and squashed flat with a sledge hammer and we got to dig their chickens and the remnants of his once proud veggie garden and orchard out back. It was all as old and crusty now as we generally are impressed by and the feeling of being steeped in history was everywhere. The chunk of cactus they sent us off with grows proud and huge out front of our place now. And of course, we’re all chickened and gardened and fruit tree’d up now too. Wonder if we’ll come to a similar end. Most likely. Steve Lopez really gets the pathos right in his Times Article on the El Chicano & La Gringa.

On the job with orange American Apparel’s widely displayed. I was shooting at Trade Tech downtown when I busted my trousers leaping over a guard rail. I was thinking I might ask the fashion students to sew me back in, but the damn things kept ripping further before I could get to the needle. I found a boutique downtown for some new 501′s. Haven’t had 501′s since Jr. High. Felt great. Mike said they were knock offs. I said no. Then I washed them. They shrank like wool. Perils of letting it all hang out to get that perfect shot….

The next biggest thing in lullaby blond nymphets. Brought as porcelain dolls to you by meenophoto and his winning factory.

At the Varela Studio downtown