I'm a california girl. Not a valley girl. Not a North Hollywood girl. Not a Rodeo Drive girl. Not a beach girl. I grew up there. I fell in love there. I got married there. I experienced tragedy and suffering there. I learned about life there. I'm just a girl from california. I'd wear flip flops no matter what the weather. (Yes, I even wore them around town in Bend...in the snow.) I never expected to leave california really. But when we did, I didn't mind.
This past week, on a walk in our secret place, Andy picked me a California Poppy. Had we been two kids on a walk in California this would have been against the law. For those of you that aren't making the connection...In California, the state flower is the California Poppy.*
And thus, picking a Poppy is a crime...in California.
He picked it, not because it wasn't a crime (cause he picked them for me when we lived in California too, I know, he's such a criminal) but because I'm his california girl. And just so you know, I like it that way.
*Special Note to Readers: The fact that the California Poppy is California's State Flower may seem obvious to some, but I didn't know until last week what Oregon's state flower was, it's the Oregon Grape for those that care.
May is my month for many reasons. Since living in Oregon, I think it has gained in superiority to all the other months. It still rains. The sun comes out. The evenings are perfect, not hot, not cold. The grass is green. The flowers are beginning to bloom. It's the perfect time for friends and bbq on the back porch. And of course, it's my anniversary month. This year we celebrated Seven Years. It seems at each click of another anniversary I am bound to the thought that life can't ever be better than this. Being with someone through all that comes in the mystery of life is more goodness than anyone deserves.
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