We have out of town company. We have grass growing. We have a dessicated garden dependent on arms and legs for its liquid needs.Â We have a long shopping list forÂ Blacksburg today.
So all those exusesÂ 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 livesÂ in a words-and-images taxonomic realmÂ 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.