Tessie’s Thistle
I’m not sure when our vehicles became ‘pets’ of sorts. Perhaps it is because they take on a sort of personality—my rough and ready F250 that served as my home/office away from home packed with blankets, reference books, water, flashlights, a few repair items. And then there is Tessie–the latest in our fleet of vehicles.
She was definitely a challenge at first, her self-driving mode a bit confusing—almost like someone learning to drive a stick shift—awkward stops at things like lamp-posts or black strips across the roads and certainly confusion over the roadwork construction cones, painted over lines.
And then there are thistles.
I have always liked thistles—not to step on or brush up against—but their big beautiful flowers atop grayed out minty green leaves. Finches like their seeds. Farmers with cows do not like thistles.
Still I take photos of them every year—fascinated by the purple globe lasting much longer than their more ubiquitous unwanted but so cheerful dandelion.
Sylvia Weir Art 