Curious finds…and can I eat it?

Ambling about the yard, camera in hand searching for beauty where I may find it, I gaze up to see a curiosity. Now this is not the magic banana tree, this is a plant with leaves that seem to grow about 3-4 feet long and flap in the breeze like wayward flags in green gone wild. I took a few images to share with you, not sure if they are plantain or banana or anything edible for that matter, and there is a large purple pod growing out of the bottom of the bunch with leaves that seem to be opening occasionally and curling back. Thought you might enjoy some sights from my yard. If anyone knows what this is, and if it (the green protrusions) are edible and if so, when to harvest them, let me know. I want to enjoy them before my neighbor puts up his ladder, leans over and cuts them off for himself.



Welcome to the jungle friends, pull up a piece and chat for awhile. I like to call it the Little Shop of Horrors plant….Feed me Seymour.


Enchanted I am drawn towards the striking beauty in the corner, a wallflower so to speak that sits idly by waiting for admiration or a simple acknowledgement of her existence. She beckons to the lens to fall upon her charm, dancing a slow languid waltz in the southern breeze, rippling in her most luxurious finery. Velvet gown worn demurely, past her knees if she were of an age to worry, she has the company of her sister while they wait for their youngest to come into her own and bloom beside the matrons. Her time is short  for the dance, and in a frenzy she moves faster in her place, eager to be plucked from the others that sit quietly around the greenery and I do so want to place her in my hands and take her for that final turn but knowing in my heart, if I were to do so, she would bow her head in shame later for the exchange, in selfishness I would watch as she slowly faded into a dull color and die, just for that one dance. I cannot be selfish with this creature, for she is true beauty living freely. I capture her rippled smile instead and am content to let the wallflower finish her days in peace, amongst her sisters in arms, and I share her instead with the world that will never see her beauty except for here on this piece of real estate she calls her home, for she has be clouded me and I am the better for it. I can only see through the finder, enamored with elegance and humbled by her gift.


I wait on the edge of a dream moving through
boxes and boxes of vinyl old
beneath my fingers
flip flip I watch the faces around me smiling
yet angry as they clean and shine and keep moving
like busy ants without a purpose
and I flip flip through each colored cardboard
thick with unplayed songs
as I havent the device
to make them sing
and I want a few to take along with me
but don’t know who to ask
for I don’t belong here
anymore in this place with these faces
that don’t mean much
just the droning of movement that keeps me
from my selections as I flip flip through
a hundred boxes of vinyl set aside
because no one wants nor remembers
their existence except for me
because it is a piece of my formative years
with bright orange stickers
won like the lottery in a radio show
where the caller become the right caller
and I hold it in my hands
smelling the aroma of mildew and wonder
as I awaken
just how did I get there
and what does it mean now
that I’m awake
but I dreamt in black and white
and the man was there giving orders
and I sat alone
but he has become me and I him
and so I wait for a sign
a word as I try to catch his eye
on whether or not
I can take a record home.

Stream of consciousness thought upon waking from a dream I had.