January 15, 2009

• We have a freaky neighbor. 
  Unfortunately he also happens to live in my fairy land and this is the year I will muster up the courage to beg his permission to let me and my camera back into Camelot, since I’ve already met all the fairies on my side of the valley.

   

  I know a lot of people do this (at least I hope so?), but I admit I’ve named most of the trees through Peutz Valley. Yes, they may be a crusty sarcastic group (this is california after all) although some of them are low on humor (a forest fire will do that to a tree), but once a year for a few months, their dark bark gets darker while the dusty green and brown  leaves transform into a lush green.   For .02 seconds it’s actually pretty here in SoCal, and then the heat comes and we all shrug, ignore the brown and trek happily to the beach or turn on our sprinklers.   There are three trees in particular that give me happy shivers every time I drive by them.  I tell Jim they completely inspire me for some reason and every time I drive by them I mentally promise to do a photoshoot there.  But one week turns into two and before I know it, Summer is here, my window of opportunity is gone and I promise to do it next spring.   That is until the end of last spring… I drove around the corner and one of my trees was gone, reduced to a pile of twigs being fed into the jaws of a chipper.  In its place, foundation footings were being dug for a new house.  A house.  The audacity… as if we don’t have enough houses around here as it is.
  Peeved doesn’t do my feelings justice.  I still haven’t finished grieving for the darn tree, every few months I moan to Jim again and tell him what a travesty it was I never got to do my photoshoot with it.  

  But all that to say, this year I absolutely have to do a photoshoot with the other two trees.  I owe it to fate or something.  Problem is both trees in question live on the property of a man in a cowboy hat who chased me and my camera off his property with a mini bulldozer looking thing two months after I moved here four five years ago.   The next day he plastered his fence with no trespassing signs and I’ve been perhaps slightly nervous about going back ever since.   He has a very long driveway and I’m not sure I’d make it all the way to the top before he shot me or something.  I think he’s from Texas.

  I have to ask him though, I’ve already got the photoshoot mapped out in my head; A trash the dress shoot,  I just need a victim volunteer to be my Tim Burtonesque bride. (oh Lauryl?)

  I’ve got butterflies just thinking about it.

  • 1:35 am
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