We have out of town company. We have grass growing. We have a dessicated garden dependent on arms and legs for its liquid needs. We have a long shopping list for Blacksburg today.
So all those exuses taken together, I’m not getting anywhere with a blog post this morning. So when such things happen, I look in my images and see if anything there prompts the Muse to get off her keister and help me.
And she did. Sort of–by shifting my ruminations from the notion of textures–which this close-up of a hosta leaf in the garden of Grateful Bread in downtown Floyd evoked–to the writing at greater length on the subject of textures by my eloquatious friend Randall, complete with many pictures of Floyd’s varied and variegated surfaces.
Please go to Floydiana–Randall’s online presence that lives in a words-and-images taxonomic realm all its own: not a blog, not a book, not a breadbasket. Survey his survey of bumps, humps, ridges, rust, rocks, sheep, trucks and river cobbles in his own tribute to TEXTURES.
And maybe by tomorrow, the cat will give me back my tongue.
Randall’s textures were a nice tour of your locale. Allen enjoys taking similar texture photos. I noted he used your sycamore photo, too. Amazingly colorful. The blues, yellows and greens in the hosta leaf are, too.