We had rain yesterday, lovely rain, for the first time in many months. It rained all day and into the night, but reports said it wouldn't be enough to cause landslides. Fingers crossed.
I had the kind of day where I didn't get to practice as much art as I like to. I guess most days are like that. Most days are filled with errands, tasks and work you get paid for (if you're lucky), and usually that work isn't writing the great American novel or performing Shakespeare or poking your camera around pretty gardens.
I mean the "general you." Well. I mean me.
I worked in Valley Village (which is--what?--a nice way of saying "north Sherman Oaks?"--"west North Hollywood?"). When I left there I took the freeway to an appointment in La Canada Flintridge. It was (appropriately) along the stretch of the 134 that runs between Disney Studios and Forest Lawn Cemetery that I had an inspiration. My muse came to me and said something brilliant, and I said, "Could you jot that down for me, please? I'm driving in the rain here." She laughed and disappeared. Haven't seen her since.
It'll come back to me.
I pulled over and took the photo of Lupe's Place in La Canada Flintridge because that bright orange table looked forlorn in the rain. Look what's next door to Lupe's. You can see it just beyond the sign in the other picture. My muse is mocking me.
Margaret, this photo's for you.
Update from the Pasadena Star-News: Resources for residents in potential mudslide areas