Around this time of year in Okinawa amazing things happen to dead trees. One moment they are a bunch of dry sticks with a few dead leaves. The next they spout amazing yellow flowers of a totally tropical genre. Take my word for it, death to beauty in in a day.

Like on the third day he rose again

More used as I am to the slower development of swelling bud to blossom, the Okinawan sudden eruption of floweriness from dead wood always envigorates me.

Don’t look at the flowers, look at the dead wood.

Anyway, I pull off the road into a parking lot to admire the yellow dead tree flowers. The parking lot turns out to belong to a glass blowing er smithy. I wander in. As this is Okinawa, I am greeted with great courtesy.  I protest that I am just a drifter looking at flowers. “Oh how wonderful, in that case let me show you how to blow glass.”  This is a bit of a non sequitur but off we go.

The furnace is full of gallons of molten glass.

Rolling in the Rye Grass

I don’t like sponge cake

He makes me a vase.

I mean, I was just driving back from a meeting.