Sunrise and sunset in front of our house. Luna, our resident street dog/raconteur/bum/security chief, is either dead or asleep in the middle of the cobblestone road, with a jacaranda backdrop at sunrise on the left, and our house is framed by the jacarandas near sunset in the park on the right.
San Miguel de Allende is a magnet for photographers, and it deserves to be. It's gorgeous, but to be fair, I learned in high school that gorgeous is always a serious challenge. Photographers come here and immediately get seduced by colors, doors, flowers, windows, cathedrals, domes, lousy french fries, Mexican faces, Mexican places, and jacaranda trees. When Deb and I and Atticus moved here two and half years ago, I made a solemn pact with myself that I wasn't going to stoop to pick the cheap shot, low-hanging fruit photos. Right. no problem. I immediately started eating lousy french fries and taking photos of jacaranda trees.
Actually, the jacaranda trees are pretty cool. On the street, I think they're generally called blue jacaranda. As I understand it, the trees are native to south-central South America, but they got planted all over the place, and Mexico is a snug fit. For a lot of the year, the trees are a real pain. Arborists mercifully might call them "maybe just a little messy." If you have them on your property you might spend most of the year wanting to cut them down because they're throwing stuff on the ground all the time. But when they bloom, it's a bloom you don't forget. The trees are densely covered in electric blue/violet flowers. In late February early March, they bloom and all is forgiven. At least for a month or two. Right now, the town is blanketed in these incredible trees and it's really something.
Our house in San Miguel borders a small city park that has a bunch of these stunners. I've seen three years of jacaranda blooms. Every time it's a treat, and each year I stumble into a couple of images. I need to get these on the blog right this second, so I can get past my guilt over getting seduced by just another pretty face. But what a face.
For about two months, or a little less, or a little more, these blooms are dead serious about being flowers. Each bloom is maybe two inches long and an electric shade of blue/violet (hence the title of the essay). The touch of red in the last image is from a bougainvillea flower that flew in on the afternoon breeze. Mexico is nothing if it isn't colored.
A couple of views from the area near our rooftop patio. Sort of shows how the park and the jacaranda fit next to the house.
Not a bad place for a glass of mezcal. Our Australian Shepherd Atticus used to love it up here. As you can see, Theo the Havanese has taken a position on top of the small table so he can oversee the activities in the park, random dogs, and the jacaranda blooms that spread to the western horizon. I'm guessing Atticus would be pleased Theo has taken his lead and carries on the tradition of sunsets on the roof. And another toast to Atticus, Prince of Paws.
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