Thursday, 7:45 am

Lately I've been having dreams of terrible things: fighting a demon uprising in the Nevada desert; all of my gardens and my food turning to slick, rotting messes in my hands; losing loved ones in crowds and panicking. 

I couldn't tell you why. I don't really believe that dreams represent things; more like they're random messes that the brain has to expel in order to rest. I don't think there's actually going to be a rebellion from Hell in the Las Vegas area.

Maybe it's because I'm surrounded by so much beauty right now, that my subconscious won't accept it for what it is; maybe somewhere in my head I'm sure that there's supposed to be sorrow and tragedy in my life to balance it all out, so it's giving me nightmares.

There's stresses and troubles in my life right now, as I'm sure there are in yours. I wish I could take care of everyone around me, and fix their problems. And I can't.

But it's that most ephemeral of paradises, peony season. I was walking past Allen Centennial Gardens early yesterday morning and made myself a few minutes late to work by stopping to take pictures of almost every one.

I hope you have time to find beauty this weekend, readers.