welcome to the brain fruit tree

Please excuse (or rather, please embrace) the surly expression on my face. It's late November, and that's just what my face looks like this time of year.





Ah, late November.


Crisp, but still warm breezes. Mindless American consumerism at its peak. Once crunchy leaves slowly rotting in the curbs, despite me having to move my car twice a week for the "street cleaning" that will apparently never occur.  And of course, the brain fruit tree fruit is ripe.





That's right, the brain fruit from the brain fruit tree. I don't know what it's actually called and I've only seen it on one tree, but man does that thing look like a brain or what? I know they're not edible because Ivy Lou won't go near them. I once saw homeless Jim gathering them up in plastic bags as though they were really valuable, so I've logically concluded that they're full of magic. (brain fruit magic!) PS. they're brain-sized, too.







On J:
sweater:: Target, chopped and hemmed.
skirt:: vintage
shoes:: thrifted
bag:: inherited from mother.