Dollar Sausages: Picture Sharing, Tehachapi

These roads build around houses by the dawn's wakening, far away from cotton candy.
The mountain view is enormous, but Mountain Stanserhorn in Switzerland has a grander thrill in me.
The clouds are spotty on some days, but wild and fast and stretching on some others.
Barking dogs around these parts don't trample the beauty here except in noise.
Tehachapians and Kernites need to drive to various locations, since walking to a store is a no-go often.

Trees, trees.
Breeze, breeze.
Chirp, chirp a chirp chirp.
Morning dawn all day long with flying colors.
So, how come many photography teachers don't talk about profitable lands?
Sometimes, to my anyway, feelings cross hurt.
Jack Rabbits, Jack Cheese.

My front yard in Tehachapi, California, comes with a park-like setting.
There are these yellow flowers unknown to me, with strange shapes and petals.
There's a couple of park benches nearby.
There are paths set up with rocks and their exact settlement with nature here.
Of course, a hike at my home is out of the ordinary.
Sometimes walls must change.
As a hippy kind of person, I think of purple chocolate and chicken bubbles.
Excuse me, but I read my words too.

Green sheds should equal terrific writing studios.
Still, I'm confused with my own way of nature.
Well, of course, it isn't simple math when paths lay out my disease in perception.
I weigh too much for a bike, and my shoes get some fume.
Readers need to understand my fortune, in particular the tenacity of my story.
It's your tenacity, and mine.

This is a nice wooden house by my parents' backyard.
Deer roam through here, but certain ones tend to struggle with their motions of gaiety.
I'd give the deer vitamins if I could, but many wild animals just don't warm up to eat anything from us.
Some creatures like some of the birds make strange sounds at night, let alone day.
Birds are a sort with feathers, so maybe there's something dinosaur in them.
Passion for green won't turn me back.

Here's my dad, Gary Julian, real estate agent of Ventura.
Before readers ignore him, consider how his beard might have the special hair in anybody's birthday.
He drinks coffee at McDonald's every morning and reads the newspaper then casually.
My dad has lost the ability to read; now he scans.
He daydreams about bacon perfume.
He thinks Yoda should talk about bacon.
Maybe Star Wars isn't informal enough, especially with all the cast's ridiculous costumes.

A tiny creek is forming beneath the lower blades of grass by the big pipe at the left.
Our house is situated on particular hills, although the extremest height isn't calculated by me.
The trees seem to be dead; after all, it's supposed to be springtime.
That certain house over yonder is beseech-ed with my complex comprehension.

The side gates to my house seem like empty vanities of romance beyond a hacker's secrets.
Initially, breaking even is breaking odd, then finishes simply startle this onlooker's vague interests.
No, nature is not universal; it's not universal in language, appearances, or trickles.

As an example of foreign nature, consider this Shenmue Tree.
It's an Asian tree, and its blossoming is peculiar.
It's a plant that can be like a father, similar to a gnome's grave, plus it has its own shadows.

A writer for THE DARK KNIGHT fansite just really gives spoilers about Mr. Freeze.
I'll read Mr. Freeze's stories, but I want to know about art quality and reasoning.
Besides, I like this picture!
Mr. Freeze needs to smoke while so frozen and stiff. Ah!

Here's a slanted angle of my path-ed front yard.
We received a free loaf of wheat bread with cranberries from one neighboring family (good, juicy, cake-y and powdery).
Various plants keep their types of greens and yellows.
I think most of the trees are really dead.
I saw a hawk jump on another hawk, and its victim complained.