Virtual Pottery Classes & Errant Trees

 It used to be the kids brought home mugs that they'd painted at a class or shaped themselves with clay.

Now they bring home mugs they've made in computer class.

 Looking out my bedroom window at about 7:45 am this morning.
As I took this photo, it occurred to me, not for the first time, that while I complain constantly about the overbearing, protected-by-rigid-city-ordinances Garry oaks in our neighbour's yard (trust me, I complain constantly), they DO add to a photo. They slouch so dramatically. I love the artistic angle of them. I don't love how they shade my garden, but I have at least 489 photos of them under various conditions. 
That said, don't loiter around them: they snap and break in unpredictable moments. Never when you'd expect it - a high wind or a hard, cold rain (when you're least likely to be under one). The oak to the left lost a massive bough last year, a gnarly old branch 20' long, which fell so hard it sank 4' into the ground. I was out in the garden one warm, June day, looking up at the sky, when I heard a huge CRACK! The branch broke away quite slowly, considering, then fell heavily to the ground, smashing through a few other branches as it went. The whole side of the hill we live on rumbled as though there had been an earthquake. The neighbours poured out of their houses, and we all stood staring at what looked like a (wooden) missile crash. And even after all that the city refused to let anyone give those bloody oaks a good prune.

Look at this. I don't know about you, but my letters never look quite like this.

Wish they did.