Local Color - The Sequel

So I WAS telling you about what I LIKE about my neighborhood.  And being one of those "more is  more" people, you will probably hear a little on this subject again.

What do I like about my neighborhood?  Trees?  Sky?  The Plant Life.  Banana Trees.  Brugmansia.  Palms.  Figs.  ROSES.  Citrus trees.  Cacti.  Firs.  Bougainvillea.

Why do I like my neighborhood?  Because people can grow salvia here and the plants look like Carmen Miranda at an all night ball instead of some skinny girl who stuck her finger in a socket and fried off everything that was attached to the surface of her person.  I was a salvia hater before I came to Los Angeles.  Now I .......really.....get the point!

My neighborhood has diagonals.  I can look up and see something.  I can look down and see something entirely different.  What I see when I look across is something somewhat fragmented in the most charming ways.   Within my field of vision is an assemblage of interlocking parts that I could very easily grab ahold of and rearrange in myriad other pleasing ways.

My neighborhood has secret spaces

 and neglected corners.  

Nature encroaches.

Nature coaxes.

  Nature threatens.

Nature enthuses.

My neighborhood looks like the cover of the "Ladies of the Canyon" album.  There are layers and levels.

When I walk down the hill, I'm in town.

And when I walk up, I can channel my Italian peasant ancestors, climbing home to a hilltop village from their vines.

Lucky peasants.  Lucky me.  That's what I like about my neighborhood.  That I should be so lucky.