Photograph prickly pear burn areas in the morning under a cloudy cloudy sky.

Giacometti-like anthropomorphic sculptures, firestorm survivor series:
earth . . . air . . .water . . . fire.

Prickly pear’s drought-tolerant palette of persistence . . . tenacity . . . perseverance.

Cobalt blue. Cadmium yellow. Cochineal red.

Giorgios’ perfume, Red, kills the appetite. In Los Angeles, maitre d’s at upscale restaurants have been known to prohibit women who exude the red fragrance from entering their establishments (source: Primary Colors)

Pardon the Cochineal . . .
Suffer the Vermilion . . .

Santa Ana winds are red winds blowing in from the deserts.

Who is the Red Queen.

Red winds. Red queens.
Star spangled nights. Star spangled days.

When plant wizard Luther Burbank worked with prickly pear cactus on his ranch in Santa Rosa, California, he told his friend, Paramahansa Yogananda, that he talks to the plants “to create a vibration of love.”

Burbank tells the cactus: “You don’t need your defensive thorns. I will protect you.”

Thorns. Spines. Glochids. Bristles.

None of us need defensive thorns. None of us need red winds in October.

What we do need:
Ruby slippers. Scarlet letters. Cochineal Queens

Posted by deborah small

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