@lailalalami.com ‘s amazing book The Dream Hotel is about the surveillance state and the commercialization of personal information, but it’s also SUCH a woman’s book. About trying so damn hard for corporeal autonomy, the loss of anything secret, the daily invasion on femininity. #booksky

My questions for the blue water lily. Mapping the blue-petal water lily (Nymphaea colorata) genome opened new questions about the first flowering plants.

Source woefully unknown

I am 35. I know water more than I know life itself.

Here, screenshot in case you hate the NYT but want to know about the DOGE attack on North American seed repositories.

I ate fruit that I grafted 20 years ago and it felt like one of the most important achievements of my life to date #gardening #propagation #spring

gardening, or is it?

The Grapes of Wrath, John Steinbeck 1939

Hand lettering by me

“It is more important now to be in love than to be in power”

James Agee, Let Us Now Praise Famous Men. One of my favorite passages…ever? Certainly my favorite disclaimer. This was criticized for being inscrutable and off-point in 1939 when it was published by Agee, a rural journalist who couldn’t help being a human being.

I’m of Octavia’s brood.

The light against the billion petal-mirrors of the Central Valley. At once nostalgia and relief— the most dramatic of seasonal markers.

Dreams typically don’t supply me much more than catharsis and confusion but the other night I apparently muttered to my fiancé, half-lucid, mid-dream “do you think we’ll ever stop using paper?” And now I’m in a History of Paper rabbit hole. Drop recs!!!

Wish James Wright was here.

Tems— If Orange Was a Place

18 minute EP of purest vibes

Feeling stressed? Stare at seaweed! (This is a cry for kelp) #algae

Passiflora terminiana spotted in the wild bones of the estuary in Cayucos. “Invasive”. To this I say, please invade me. Let me know if you need directions to my house. Let me make you dinner. #bloomscrolling

Xochi. A studio ghibli critter brought to life.

wish I knew where these bulk baby jesuses are sold— the ones that are baked into rosca de reyes (Mexican ring-shaped sweet bread dotted with candied orange peel). I want to put my hand in the bulk-bin of little gods, like feeling around the barrel of pinto beans at the market as a child.