to have that experience you must exit your vehicle.
and stand in the middle of an abandoned street–this one courtesy the shuttered tustin air base (forget, please, for the moment, that there’s one of those ubiquitous orange county black mercedes benz’s parked a block or so away–without a driver or a sign of human life near it or even away from it.)
which is not unusual for orange county, the 6th most populous county in the u.s., but where, if you travel in my circles, you’ll rarely see another human being.
p.s. that’s a zeppelin hangar in the background; it’s scale is impossible to convey in a photo–god knows i’ve tried in the past, but no matter from what angle i photograph it, it always looks small. trust me, it’s HUGE, GARGANTUAN–which reminds me, did you ever read rabelais? i have, en français sans doute and ever since i’ve tended a love for all things pantagruel et gargantua, mes grands géants, but that may just be me.
how can that be, you may ask yourself? so many people, so rarely seen. the easy answer: they rarely get out of their cars, or pull over somewhere, possibly trespassing as i was the day i took these photographs (yesterday, to be exact), eschewing nature, quiet, contemplation, and solitude for god-knows-what, but i suspect it’s fear that keeps them from more solitary pursuits–such as being alone with their thoughts.
may is the purple month in southern california. first we have the jacarandas (jacaranda cuspidfolia, possibly, for those readers–and you know who you are–that enjoy their latin genus and species nomenclature), and followed by the agapantha.
today, though, i’m all about the jacaranda and cloudy days and solitude and abandoned air fields, blimp hangars, and a block of townhomes framed by gnarled branches and purple blossoms of 80 year-old flowering trees whose scent startled me with its sweetness and strength (two qualities we would be well-advised to utilize in our lives, yes?)