We found this lemur hidden between the rock it’s sitting on and the bluebonnets. It was hidden, dirty, wet, and sad. Somewhere a small broken heart misses this lemur. We set her up, sitting, waiting. But it’s been days now and she still sits, waiting, as the storms start rolling through.

I tend to like more photos that I make for a theme that I typically share. While quarantined I’m changing that. These are my other images of brokenness. More inside.

We walk past a garden of bluebonnets and aloe vera almost every day as we walk our neighborhood. The aloe vera have bloomed, and a few green anoles have taken up residence in the lofty blooms. It’s a reminder for me that even when the world is broken, we can’t stop the blooming of the flowers, or the movement of the animals. Beautiful days in a broken world almost feel worse.

In the bottom right is a fig tree. I’ve taken an interest in keeping track of as many figs as I can find. Over time they disappear, to squirrels or other hungry creatures. I would love to pick a ripe one from the tree some day, but I’ll probably be disappointed every year.

A red poppy has much weight, even more so knowing how fragile they are.

What is broken and worth little to one can be a project and worth much to another.

Our little EB has started running in front of the stroller before our walks. As we complete another loop, our routine can feel like a broken record. But what continues to pull me out is her constant wonder and constant growth.