As he springs from the potting shed, Willie’s triumphant arms reach skyward. To the neighbors, his frenzy probably seems to evoke chaos of tangled summertime hoses. But according to himself… Willie don’t care—the neighbors can think what they want. He’s got bigger things on his mind, like those hoses that need a’coiling.
Warm sand and tilandsia evoke visions of beaches. Not to shabby.
This thing smells like the ocean… The salty, industrial ocean.
California’s badass—rockin’ since the eighties.