Two months ago, I ended up in Italy for a conference. (You know, my glamorous librarian lifestyle.) In a misguided effort to save money, I flew a discount airline to Bergamo, rather than straight to Milan where the conference was. And you know what? That ended up being one of my best travel decisions ever.

The trip was off to an excellent start with the continuation of my favorite Madrid airport tradition. (Favorite tradition, not favorite airport. Madrid-Barajas is a soulless warehouse of an airport, with vast, fluorescent-lit hallways and overpriced amenities, cunningly designed to rob travelers of all hope and vigor.)

Last week my camera and I took a trip into rural Montana and the mountains of Glacier National Park.

A storm rolled in as we walked down the country road.

But cleared up in time for a great sunset.

We hiked through a forest of dead trees.

Surprised a marmot.

And watched a second sunset over snow.

We woke up at the crack o’ dawn on Sunday to drive down to Muir Woods as soon as the park opened, and before all the tourists arrived. Choosing the path less taken every time, we found ourselves on a beautiful two-hour hike through the woods, culminating in a spectacular view across the park. Mist was still blowing through the trees, so the landscape changed every couple of minutes.

Spotted some cute banana slugs, a gaggle of chipmunks, and a couple of hawks. I also made friends with a lizard and he allowed me to get within a few inches for some excellent reptile portraits. He was missing half his tail, so perhaps his amiable demeanor didn’t work with hungry foxes and birds.

Because day two was our Japantown day, not many photographs were taken. A lot of Japantown is indoors, with some really wonderful shops selling things like earthenware, bonsai trees, Japanese-language books, knick-knacks, clothing, unusual groceries, and–of course–fresh noodles.

When I wasn’t eating noodles or chatting with Japanese shopkeepers, I took photos of succulents. The thing that always astonishes me when I travel to the west coast is how easily succulents grow in the wild…

Okay, I’m no crybaby, but this is the second time that a bicycle ride through Washington, DC has left me in tears. It was nothing, really. A car sped past me through a light (even though he was in a right turn lane) and nearly edged me into oncoming traffic in his hurry to squeeze into my lane.

Maybe that sounds like a big deal to those of you who live in other parts of the country, but for those of us who cycle in DC, it is–sadly–an everyday occurrence. I guess the part that really got to me was when I glanced over at the driver. He was glaring at me, as if I had violated his god-given right to change lanes at will. He wasn’t thinking about my safety–or his, for that matter–and he certainly wasn’t thinking about traffic laws. Not prepared to get into a fight with several tons of metal, I slowed down. He crossed into my lane and sped away without even looking back.

Ever wandered, drooling, past a bakery window and wished that you could have a tart of your very own? A tart to cherish, to love, to pile high with freshly sliced fruit? Well, now you can!

As is often the case, I volunteered to provide dessert for a social occasion without actually knowing what I’d make. Or if I had the necessary ingredients. Or even the time. This tart is the result of an hour of frantic online recipe browsing, leafing through cookbooks, and running around Harris Teeter like a madwoman, and another hour of stirring, accidentally powdering all nearby surfaces with confectioners’ sugar, slicing fruit quickly rather than safely, and pouring hot jam.

I spotted Waldo in Silver Spring, Maryland last weekend at the second annual Silver Spring Zombie Walk. Well, undead Waldo.

When I was in elementary school, I used to complain about stomach aches all the time to get out of math class. And when I say all the time, I mean all the time. The school nurse knew me. She could even recognize my footsteps and my knock. Anyway, being an extremely patient and sympathetic woman (perhaps she didn’t like math either), she always let me stay. I would hop up onto the spare cot with a Where’s Waldo book and spend the next half hour searching through the pages.

As well as setting a really dangerous precedent of two blog posts in one week, I’m also getting into the bad habit of posting a lot of images and very little text. I’ll try to get better about that, though I secretly believe that people are, in general, too lazy to read lot of text anyway.

As promised, here are my four most recent paintings. They’re actually finished, which is more than I can usually say! We’ll see about continuing this trend.

I’m going to save up for a couple of canvases so next time I don’t have to paint on paper.

Two years ago, when I was afflicted with horrible sunburn and confined to the house, I started a tradition of decorating notebook covers with strange collages. As I was completely sunburn-free last August, I missed my opportunity. But this year I’ve revived the tradition! Not only that, but I’ve revived it with poetry. This year’s notebook brought to you courtesy of T.S. Eliot and The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock.

I finally got around to uploading part of the film I worked on last year for my independent study. This is just a 4-minute clip, but it will have to do for now.