Picker Bushes

I woke up at 7:11 a.m. I laid there until 7:17, and decided I wasn't going back to sleep. Trudged to the bathroom...brushed my teeth...a quick slug of orange juice... a slab of sunscreen...and out the door at 7:25. Sunny and 67 degrees. If I could sing I would have broke into song..."O WHAT A BEAUTIFUL MORNING...O WHAT A BEAUTIFUL DAYYYY."

I decided for the first time to carry both my lenses. I'm having focus issues with the long lens, so I wanted to have the short lens, too. The "flower" shown here is with the short lens. The long lens tugged at the waistband of my elastic-waisted shorts. FOR ONCE...I was walking along in style...just like one of the kids. I just wish that I would have had on a pair of brightly colored boxers instead of my tighty whities. Maybe next time. I avoided walking by the police station for fear of being picked up. "58 YEAR-OLD MAN ARRESTED FOR SAGGING PANTS." Not a pretty picture or a headline.

To the picker bush...How does a weed that hurts to the touch and is almost impossible to kill...get to be crowned with such a pretty shade of purple? I thought that purple was the color of royalty. What's so royal about the picker bush? The bottom of the bush got me in the shin as I leaned over the railing to get the shot. OUCH!! Good thing my shorts were sagging low enough to deflect most of the bush. (They weren't that bad.)

The ant was a bonus.