Southern California fires are pretty democratic, they hit the mansions and trailer parks and everything in between with the same cruelty… The current definition of a Californian is still “did or did not escape the fires?”

“Devil winds, hill-hopping infernos, smoked mansions, torched trailers, barren freeways, and brilliant sunsets lingering in low-hanging canopies of burnt dreams.” That’s how Steve Lopez  describes all hell breaking loose in California.

Last year in october I wrote:”wildfires, burning out of control, are continuing to threaten thousands of homes in California. You can’t help but to have this incredible sense of the fragility of everything. As human beings we are wired to think that everything will stay the way it is, safe from sudden and intense changes…” My childhood home burnt down in 1970—my barbie collection got charred along with the rest of the house…

Palm trees help spread fire—I’ve never liked them much—to see an amazing photo essay click here.

It’s amazing how fire spares a house or two in the middle of a whole burnt neighborhood—my friend’s  house in Anaheim hills stayed intact when his neighbor’s got completely destroyed; his daughter, Kimiya, has sent me these pictures of their street:

and this one:

The chimneys are the only things standing in most burnt houses.

To watch a powerful clip from BBC, click here.

“Often it takes some calamity to make us live in the present.” Bill Watterson

The Desert Garden at the Huntington’s was in full bloom and I couldn’t resist sharing these beautiful images with you. First some gorgeous Echeveria succulents:

They have fleshy leaves with small delicate flowers like these:

These are called black succulents and are truly magnificent:

Agave (of the tequila fame) , Aloe and Cactus are all members of the succulent family—the cactus having more prickles than others. They are water-retaining plants. Just look at this gorgeous queen victoria agave:

and this pretty pink flower of another agave plant.

This one had small blue and red blossoms.

You all know this more common succulent: the creeping ice plant.

This desert garden is nearly 100 years old and has more than 3,000 species of desert plants. Let’s go to the thorny cacti now; you don’t want to get lost on this road on a dark night!

I loved these peach hued blossoms on this prickly pear cactus,

they turn yellow when they open.

This is a more dramatic version of the same plant—it almost looked like under water coral…

Cactus is an oxymoron to me. How can a plant with fleshy leaves and prickles that repel you have such brilliant and intensely colored flowers? It rejects you and invites you at the same time…

A closer look,

and the piece de resistance: the red flower cactus.

This young gardener was busy the whole time that I was visiting the gardens.

“Gardening requires lots of water - most of it in the form of perspiration.”  Lou Erickson

It rains purple in Los Angeles every May.

Beautiful Jacarandas in full bloom line some streets in Los Angeles and Buenos Aires.

The streets are quiet on sunday afternoons so I went out to take some pictures of the Jacarandas in full bloom.

In some streets (like Whittier in Beverly Hills), they line both sides of the road and their branches meet making a beautiful violet tunnel.

You can enjoy these trees in their full purple glory for a couple of months provided you never park your car in the purple rain of blossoms under the trees; it gets pretty sticky…

Of course these are not the only stunning purples. There are zillions of Bougainvilleas (paper flower):

or these gorgeous purple wreath bushes:

Their deep lavender color is breathtaking to look at.

Of course all I wanted to do today was to talk about a picture I really like: Obama’s tattered shoes but the purple rain kept falling…

Do you think he would want to march on Iran like McCain and Clinton promised to do? with these shoes?

Thanks to Evelyn, Ali and Jim’s comments, we know that this is not the first time that we are seeing the soles of a presidential candidate.

I saw these naked bodies last week in the science museum. I’ve been trying to see this exhibition for a long time. Gunther von Hagens‘ lifetime work is awe inspiring to say the least.

It’s all about real human bodies preserved through Plastination. It takes more than 1500 hours of work to transform a corps into a plastinate - the near perfect representation of a once living human body. It’s interesting to see  how each body has it own unique features, even on the inside.

We usually forget that beneath even the most beautiful bodys’ skin lies a skeleton, muscles, several feet of intestines and lots of other goodies!

This whole experience reminded me of a great rainy day last year when I visited the small Dupuytren museum in the school of medicine in Paris. Just look at the skull of this man hit by a rifle stick in 1807 - he died after two days.

And if you are (unlike me) into mythology, you may enjoy seeing a real Kyklōps (cyclops). After being exposed to all of the above, I listened today to my favorite podcast about the history of Brain.

I am not all flowers and poetry after all, am I?

Happy New Year to all of you hamvatans! These are some pictures of the ghost of Nowruz past and present. I remember new shoes, the intoxicating scent of hyacinths, the goldfish and the mint bills - and of course the sound of naghareh when the year changes.

No Ruz is the day when life’s glory is celebrated; it usually occurs on March 21st or the previous/following day depending on where it is observed. It’s a feast of renewal and freshness - No (new) Ruz (day).

It has often been suggested that the famous Persepolis Complex, or at least the palace of Apadana and Hundred Columns Hall, were built for the specific purpose of celebrating Noruz by Darius the Great (522 -485 BC). It is celebrated in other countries as well as Iran. Tajikistan is one of them.

In spite of trying hard, the islamic republic of Iran has not been able to erase this semi-pagan spring festival; they have tried to replace Zarathustra’s spring equinox celebration with the muslim eyds to no avail.

The original haft sheen or seven sh’s were: Sharab (wine), Shekar (sugar), Sham (Candle), Shir (milk), Sharbat (Sherbet), Shaneh (comb), Shahd (nectar) but they were replaced by seven S’s to eliminate sharab (wine) after the arab conquest.

The haft seen is made of:
Sabzeh – wheat or lentil sprouts growing in a dish symbolizing rebirth
Samanu - pudding made of wheat symbolizing wealth
Senjed – dried fruit of Jujube tree symbolizing love
Seer - garlic symbolizing medicine
Seeb – apples symbolizing beauty and health
Somaq – sumac berries symbolizing the sun
Serkeh – vinegar symbolizing age
Sonbol – hyacinth flower symbolizing the arrival of spring
Sekkeh - gold coins symbolizing prosperity and wealth

Too much information, wouldn’t you say?

“Pourquoi les hommes ne savent-ils pas
Que la capucine n’est pas un hasard…” Sepehri

آمد بهار ای دوستان منزل سوی بستان کنیم
گرد غریبان چمن خیزید تا جولان کنیم

امروز چون زنبورها پران شویم از گل به گل
تا در عسل خان جهان شش گوشه آبادان کنیم

آمد رسولی از چمن کاین طبل را پنهان مزن
ما طبل خان عشق را از نعره ها ویران کنیم

بشنو سماع آسمان خیزید ای دیوانگان
جانم فدای عاشقان امروز جان افشان کنیم

آتش در این عالم زنیم وین چرخ را برهم زنیم
وین عقل پابرجای را چون خویش سرگردان کنیم

کوبیم ما بی پا و سر گه پای میدان گاه سر
ما کی به فرمان خودیم تا این کنیم و آن کنیم

نی نی چو چوگانیم ما در دست شه گردان شده
تا صد هزاران گوی را در پای شه غلطان کنیم

خامش کنیم و خامشی هم مایه دیوانگیست
این عقل باشد کآتشی در پنبه پنهان کنیم

Rumi

To hear my good friend (Houri)’s voice accompanying the preparation of haft-seen, click on the view here.

Postscript:
About the seven sh’s, somebody mentioned the omnipresent SHAHNAMEH on the Norouz spread and I have to agree - the Great Book’s almost always been on mine even now that it’s become the tame haft-seen. For some comic book version (for the heavy readers) check this site out.

check out this link to see  george bush’s haft-seen.

Is there anything in the world more effortlessly beautiful than a flower (in this case a cabbage)? We can’t stop marveling at their generous beauty.

This ornamental cabbage was exquisite in the morning sun.

I am not a “nature person”; I need the big cities’ concrete to be happy but it is often the quiet elegance of trees and flowers that reconciles me to the countryside.

These gorgeous carps - Koi Fish - were the best companion for the flora of this morning stroll. They are symbols of love and friendship.

I have decided to go easy on this post - no links, no major earth-shattering opinions, nothing but beautiful images and maybe this poem by e.e.cummings:

“i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun’s birthday;this is the birth
day of life and love and wings:and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any-lifted from the no
of all nothing-human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)”

My eucalyptus tree attempted partial suicide (non-fatal self-destructive act, self-mutilation) a couple of days ago.

The California Eucalyptus are transplanted trees from Australia (ca 1850) - they were brought here in the hopes that they would provide a renewable source of timber for construction and furniture making.

I heard a big swooshing noise and a loud thump; what seemed to be my whole eucalyptus tree landed ten inches from my parked car at my doorsteps killing some poinsettias. I thought I’ve lost the tree but I found out later that “some species of Eucalyptus have a habit of dropping entire branches off as they grow. Eucalyptus forests are littered with dead branches. Many people have been killed as they camped underneath the trees. It is thought that the trees shed very large branches to conserve water during periods of drought.” Mine’s “accident” may have been caused by the wind or the heaviness of the branch.

The whole yard smelled wonderful though - by its very essence, eucalyptus has the scent of freshness and purification. I love trees especially the ones I grew up with - sycamores and poplars. “Suburbia is where the developer bulldozes out the trees, then names the streets after them.” Bill Vaughan

One whole day of yard work reduced the giant branch to these. Maybe my wood sculptor friend would be interested.

I can’t translate this poem without stripping it of its original beauty:

Dans la forêt sans heures
On abat un grand arbre
Un vide vertical
Tremble en forme de fût
Près du tronc étendu.

Cherchez, cherchez, oiseaux,
La place de vos nids
Dans ce haut souvenir
Tant qu’il murmure encore.

Jules Supervielle

Here is my favorite T-shirt:

I haven’t seen two poplars to be enemies

I haven’t seen a willow selling its shade to the ground

The elm tree freely bestows its branch to the crow

Wherever there is a leaf my passion blossoms

من نديدم دو صنوبر را با هم دشمن

من نديدم بيدي، سايه اش را بفروشد به زمين.
رايگان مي بخشد، نارون شاخه خود را به كلاغ.
هر كجا برگي هست ، شور من مي شكفد

Je n’ai jamais vu la haine de deux peupliers.
Je n’ai jamais vu un saule vendre son ombre à la terre.
Et gratuitement l’orme offre sa branche aux corbeaux.
Partout où frémit une feuille,
S’épanouit aussi le bourgeon de l’ardeur.

Sohrab Sepehri

I am crazy about scarves. This is one of my few indulgences: silk scarves to wear around my neck. One of my favorites is this Hermès piece:

It inspired me to make this card which is available for purchase :

and this t-shirt, available in several colors :

I have this resurfacing nostalgic feeling about snow every winter in southern california; being born here, my son doesn’t miss the snow much, but I, being born on a snowy December first, in Mashhad, Iran, miss it a lot…The quiet beautiful snow who always speaks softly…

There is this short novel I read a few years back called Neige (snow in french) and of course the great book of my friend Jean-Michel Maulpoix called Pas sur la neige. “Chaque flocon répète: nous n’irons plus au ciel.” (every snowflake repeats: we’re not going back to the sky)

I don’t know the name of the photographer of the above picture but I figured I would throw it in for all of you homesick persians.

Wildfires, burning out of control, are continuing to threaten thousands of homes in California. A lot of people are going to lose theirs today. You can’t help but to have this incredible sense of the fragility of everything. As human beings we are wired to think that everything will stay the way it is, safe from sudden and intense changes…

We’ve had a very dry summer and the global warming is not helping. It is pretty scary to watch (even on TV) a fire that “jumps the freeway”. In my last post, I said that we have only one season here but I have to correct that because we have four: the earthquake season, the mudslide season, the fire season and the last but not least the Oscars season - each as unpredictable as the others in its outcome.

Just found these images (above) by Pooya Monajemi on BBC. Like Dante, we may all need our guide getting us out of Hell. “What region of the earth is not full of our calamities?”Virgil

The arbitrariness, the randomness of it all is astounding…”You did or did not escape the fires?” That could be the current definition of a Californian. The two images (above) from yahoo say more about these devastating fires.

I took the picture above from my car, trapped on the closed down freeway 14 near Sand Canyon, a couple of hours ago - I still have the smoke on my hair.

It rained today in Los Angeles and I pretended that the fall was here, that there is actually a change of weather, that time doesn’t pass me by in a bigger hurry in the absence of seasons in southern California. Going through the four seasons makes you realize that you are aging with the rest of the Earth, but not where I live…

We are surrounded here by evergreens and we rarely use our gloves/umbrellas/fireplaces; every time that I see a sycamore or a Japanese maple tree losing quietly its leaves, I am transported back to my childhood in Tehran where the year was divided into its four glorious versions. Summers were hot and dry, winters cold and white, etc…

The autumn leaves was adapted from the beautiful poem by Prévert. Both Juliette Gréco and Yves Montand had this song in their repertory.

I still remember the spectacular color shows of New England falls; It’s quite amazing how the green leaves turn to brilliant shades of yellow, orange, and red - a never ending spectacle.

Momijigari (leaf peeping in the U.S.) is the japanese traditional pastime of viewing the changing colors of the autumn foliage when it snows yellow and red.