Discovering Beauty in Everyday Life

Yellow tree is bearing up leaves still stuck along the limbs, how did they get so big? Yellow’s just a little thing compared to Yellow & Green. I had a white-light come to me once but I didn’t know at the time, so here I am earthbound and running chasing after second chances. I knew a man who found a sheep that lived three years in a Scotland cave. It could barely walk and talk and graze with so much unsheared wool. I am like a quiet morning, slowly filling the backyards up without a sound, fresh with pitted peaches canned for winter I have nothing to say to the dead anymore with their put-down trumped-up charges. Just let them be, I said once more and I let colors talk to me. East 94th Street one of two New York Kentucky Coffee Trees

Fall leaf Worn on the edges    like an old hem  Crumpled        Smelling of dawn Horse Chesnut, three years old!

Here we come! Here we come!  We're ready, you see! To Be You!  To be Me!  To be Free! Whee! French Conservancy Garden, Central Park

Caught in the mercy of stinging time, lasers slicing at my finger tips, they don’t want to gnarl and bend, sucked into the bone without a single promise! And what about the pale heart, sutured, in its dimpled, cage? Wishing and waiting, hanging on, teasing fire back into these frozen knuckles, pulling old threads and missing moments. Beating time. These are the constant days-- strong in the root and tipped with new life.. Do you still have that Tuscan Yellow evening? Gold with peach and morning colors? I can trade you for a shiny grapple, tied with dreams and tossed into honeysuckles.

Incredible Winter Tree on 3rd Avenue Incredible Fall Tree on 3rd Avenue

Going quietly among silent, reflecting things... New York City Mountain Laurel

Perhaps you have been wondering, as so many have, where the colored bits of raw material for Kaleidoscopes originate.  It so happens that there are Fall Kaleidoscope Bit Farms here and there, although they are almost never identified correctly. They are Master Mimics, and often confused for ordinary fall bouquets. Craftily, our roaming photographer has  located and captured  on film a Bit Farm of notorious illusivity. 

Free! Incredible Fall Beauty Take one Free; Get the Second one F R E E !!

Deep purple-red house buried in orange-red leaves, with a mailbox

Fall Reflections Bicyclist in Central Park, East Drive

It's an overcast day, damp with fall, colored with possibilities! Mission for the day: a. Locate one Fall Leaf. b. Find a Person. c Give Person this incredible thing.

Our hidden Sumac is often perplexed about what is important to contemplate next Should I act innocent while I plan my escape, Or wait for security plans to take shape? Am I locked in or out? Should I cower or shout? Should I look for a file or just sit here awhile? Maybe I'll worry tomorrow instead. It's late and I'm tired and ready for  bed.

I melted away today, as though it were an ordinary thing, to lose track of all my edges. It was on an inhale, I am certain, and in a neutral sun of a day. It so happens that I found an Unexpected Ticket, kept safe for many years inside my inside pocket. Off I went, rolling and skipping, borderless and giddy. Imagine my surprise to find a stream-lit cave, hidden in a shadow. Yes! It was a spirit cave, full of painted faces, lessons learned and candy cotton, ferris wheels and reasons, candy corn and water lilies, moonlit paths (that’s where we met) and fresh blue midnights. Yes, you were there, and one more time I felt the world on fire, swollen with dreams. Central Park North in Fall

Suddenly it's a fall sun, burning cold and golden in the late afternoon. Trees smeared with hazy leaves, pale blues and snapping satins, gay November branches.

One petal, two petal, three petal four. The numbers are perfect, and so is the score. Could there be a happier moment today than watching these riotous colors at play?

Just focus! Focus is what people say you should do when there’s too many to-do’s in play. So today I focused on pizza and tea. Yes I did! You may think I just wanted a rhyme, it’s not true!  I wanted a pizza, you see.   The tea was just something to go with the lime, left over from shopping last month sometime. So I tried very hard just to focus at all, on a single event among billions this fall, on one tree at a time, among millions of trees. One leaf at a time among thousands of these. With hundreds of branches on each one of them, I selected, at random, a beautiful gem, full of rubies and gold with a silvery stem.

Pale by comparison to the male, I have heard said, but how is it possible to compare beauty with beauty? Female Mallard Dines in the Harlem Meer More information: Algae @ the Meer

I was swallowing the day whole, Inhaling the deep yellows and wet green, when I chanced upon a new yellow tree, near a set of tall, unattached, helter skelter fence posts. The posts were maybe twelve feet tall. "What they intend to confine must be extremely big," I thought, and I drew closer. I saw that New Tree was planted in what appeared to be an old fishing boot!  Could it be that someone intends to use these posts not for a fence, but as a set of pilings meant to hold up a large waterproof basin?  And just what sort of fauna is expected to dwell within this gigantic puddle? Puddle? Puddle!   Aha!  Clearly, this basin is meant for neither fauna nor flora, but is another classic Parks Department puddle eradication scheme!  They will attempt to trap each mudpuddle and move it to a sort of mudpuddle reservation in the North End of the park.  What a relief.  Firstly, the Parks Department will never capture the essence of the puddle, since they are confusing the puddl

Berries, Berries, Berries, but not a single Bear! No Birds! No Bees! What's going on here? Central Park Near the 79th Street Transverse, September

Summer sliding dumbly toward a muted fall, With faded greens, a yellow here and there and me, Heartsick for no apparent reason, stuck like gum to a sidewalk square. No place to go and no way out except by public transportation. Scraping up my soul I head for home, imagination searching for the way it might have been