Still working the whole self-portrait thing. This is the at-home me (as opposed to the last one, which was the at-work me). I realize looking at this that when I think I have a neutral expression of calm repose it actually looks like a frown. Have to work on that, although I know when I'm nervous or uncomfortable I tend to smile too much and so there's a happy medium out there somewhere. I so hated as a child being told to smile all the time, but that sounds like a post for another day.
Lesley asked about the maple seed pods and if there was any relation to the sycamore trees she remembered growing up in England. For a week, there hovered just outside my ability to pull it in the memory of some old song with the words "sycamore tree;" I kept trying to let it come to me, to get more than those two words to float in and it finally came. Dream a Little Dream of Me:
Stars shining bright above you, night breezes seem to whisper, "I love you"
Birds singing in the sycamore tree, "Dream a little dream of me."
Say "nighty-night" and kiss me, just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me.
While I'm alone and blue as can be, dream a little dream of me.
(YouTube is taking forever and ever to load for me this morning, so I haven't seen this clip but it promises to be Louis Armstrong's version of the song if you're not familiar with the tune.)
But from what I can tell, there must be some other tree than the American Sycamore that goes by that name, since the American Sycamore has a very different seed pod. Although I'm sorry to have left Lesley's question unanswered, I love little journeys like this, and am so relieved to have finally come up with the song.
[Blogger is giving me font trouble -- I'll try to fix it but if this looks all weird and a jumble of sizes, it is not my fault...]