Discovering Beauty in Everyday Life

Small Umpire declares imaginary runner to be safe in an unidentified game involving a small brown ball.     *Pig Update:  I forgot to mention that 86th Street downtown subway station is on Lexington Avenue, Manhattan!

Every now and then, we need a break from all that Spring Blossom Beauty.  OK.  Take a deep, deep breath of moistened, fresh,  bracing, pollen-free air!  Taken from the Starboard side of the IKEA ferry, from the bottom of Wall Street to Brooklyn * Solving the Flying Subway Pig Mystery: Enter the 86th Street  Station on the downtown side.  Go to the right stairwell after entering the turnstile.  Take the stairs down to the express tracks, and look carefully. Flying Pig is about a foot square.

Have you ever wanted to be inside out?  I have. I’d like to be a free lady of the wind and seasons.  I’d like to be a woman of the late night places  where passion breathing stars spit out virtue,  red and dwarfed. I’d like to hear the naked beauty of desire fed into the wheat fields. I’d like to chip into a mortared brick and wait out the morning.  I’d like to be born with a sweet flame and a silken web. No more ancient, aging, ailing outer-facing rind,  wasting with hope. Scrape away the tired shadow mask at last. Escape the weeping cellar full of old bones pushing through the riven boards let’s have one more sacred candied day, a final ritzy season. Frosted with that inside story I kept so quietly mine.

Find the Flying Subway Pig* Photo by Lara ~ New York City Subway *See tomorrow's photo-reflection for the answer

These dancing tulips are playing Shadow Chiaroscuro, the endless balancing of  the clear and the obscure.  See how the sunward petals throw their shadows onto the farther ones? How delicate and transparent.  How sturdy and fine. How like a tulip!

Harlem ducks rest in the spring rushes Best wishes on Easter Morning Harlem Meer in Central Park

The other day a passerby turned to her fellow walker:  "You should have seen these trees yesterday; they were at their absolute peak." Of course I understand the comment, having depleted many a day lamenting the loss of yesterday's pilfered beauty.

Here's a shot from my new Nikon 5100.  I can't actually tell whether the color is adjusted correctly, since it depends on the monitor. This was taken at 1/13 second at f4.0 without flash at night.  Usually one would need a tripod.  The ISO was set at 400. 

And the most beautiful.

Right in the middle of Manhattan there lies an enchanted path . . .

A rare temperature inversion has created a cloud of cherry blossom vapor seen hovering over the Reservoir Bridle Path.  This unusual photo captures all phases of the vaporization process, from buds to blossoms to vapor to thin air

Robino has been practicing his modeling and posing  for an entire year,  and look what determination has accomplished!  Not only has Robino mastered the art of calm and beautiful sitting, he has also learned to appear only in the most concordant settings to complement his beautiful colors. 

Driving and singing through the Rained-on night, tossing miles away With lightening speed Thundering and gay with promises. I didn’t see at first, but there you were Together. Torn inside out and dead with rage I birthed a cunning plot. Pock-marked and coffin nailed It scythed across my maliced cheeks. I stayed there frozen to the icy metal in my mind. The streets were black and finger wet With all those boring tears. At last it let me go; I see how I was sickened with it. I’m on the road again now, flying over bean fields Winding over the edges. A half a tank of gas A glove compartment map A fishbowl full of matchbook covers

In the back of my closet is a secret tunnel. It’s a passage meant for seekers, Fizzing, bubbling, and spinning down through the quarky nuclei of time. I often watched them swimming towards that nano-second slit. Not me, though; I had too many here who loved me, or so I supposed. And I was dizzy with life,  Smelling horses and leather saddles, Smelling dry timber and wet growing twigs, Smelling pine needles in the early morning.   And I was afraid of the dark.    I carry an inner lamp these days, with some crumpled money and silver coins.      There’s a cloud covered moon tonight I am told, And there’s nobody knows how deep it goes.  And I'll go along with the ride.

A billion beautiful blossoms are at their peak.  Why do I believe I see every one as precisely as a dream?

This is one of the first Yoshimo Cherry blossoms of the season.  She is so excited to open in the western sun that she is willing to suffer from overexposure. 

There are few things in life as exciting and magical as locating and appreciating an errant daffodil Magical Missing Daffodils!

I’ve watched this proper tree for many years, and it is at its happiest when the ambiance of spring is full of flower thoughts and tiny embryos.  You see, this is Sentinel, a guardian tree of transitions.  Tall, straight, elegant; a tree to be depended upon.    Those who know do not dare stray from the proper path while under Sentinel’s dominion. 

It was such a beautiful day, I decided to go for a walk with my sparrow Ounce.  We know how Ounce cannot resist water, so I went looking near all the usual places.  I couldn't find Ounce anywhere, and of course that is not too surprising, but after scouring puddle after puddle and even small lakes I gave up and headed home. Imagine my surprise when there, in a sidewalk cherry tree, was Ounce! Ounce would not say what he was doing in a strange cherry tree and kept hiding his face in a shadow.  I couldn't say for sure, but I feel certain that Ounce was blushing.

It’s another reprise of the same old trees,    The same old views with the same old hues, The same old birds and the same old bees, Why bother with buds (they’re here every spring) A twig with a blossom, a bird on the wing?    I think I’ll stay home.  It’s chilly today.   Why go out of my way when it’s there every day?  I’ll give it a chance in a moment or two, I’ll wander around and look over the view. Oh my gosh, look at that. It’s a beautiful sight! But I saw it last night in the very same light!  It’s the very same tower but different some how It’s the very same water but look at it now! It’s the very same tree with the very same bough! I’m excited, I’m giddy, it’s joyous, it’s free It’s the best thing all day and it's happened to me! Whee!

I know it’s there I buried it, Covered in hot coals   Wrapped in its own husk Burning in the late sun Trembling under my feet Kernels warm and rough Pulling up by the roots Pushing away the tangled soil Tasting of salt and melting butter Smelling of fresh turned earth.

Urban Volunteer Pays Needed Attention to Beutiful Daffodil South of 96th Street close to the Smallest Tree

Reservoir Fountain framed by Sky and Water, separated by Manhattan. Looking South-West over the Reservoir, April 2011

Among the more beautiful puddles is the genus Puddlus Narcissisis Seductivus also known colloquially as  Prison Puddle.  Prison Puddles are capable of capturing reflections for days and sometimes weeks, thus freezing the reflected entity in space and time.  The only escape is for the reflected one to tear itself away from its beautiful image long enough to effect a release.  .

Late March cold Rains have fled, bringing in April showers of Spring beauty Second Magic Tree, behind the Metropolitan Museum of Art

Cosmic Egg, from whence all creation is, takes on many masks -- the gourd, the jar, the lotus, the golden and the eagle's egg to name a few.  The rarest mask of all, however, is the Cosmic Egg Puddle captured here for the very first time. First Cosmic Egg gestates the creators of the world: Zeus, Chaos, Pangu, Thoth, Brahman, Khepri, Earth Diver, Ka, the Apportioner....Now each and every year the offspring of Cosmic Egg are born  to ensure the rebirth of Creation. As you can see, Cosmic Egg Puddle is bursting with life, moving, vibrating, and if you hold your ear very close you will hear the whisperings of new life, new love, and new joyful beginnings..