Discovering Beauty in Everyday Life

Evening is settling among the bricks and blossoms Sparrows are tweeting their last goodnights Our pathfinders are coming home.  The narrower the path, the better the adventure

Let the sap of summer nourish me, like a small bough, with a leaf stuck for life to its limb. Let the autumn wind care for my soul. So what if winter crawls over my roots!

Once upon a time, long before now, When the grass was as green as a lollypop~ Off we went down the sidewalk edge, looking for a piece of eternity. It was a popsicle day, With trees saturated in summer~ Sidewalks so hot you needed shoes, You could fry an egg if you wanted, they said. We were warned of course, about crossing the street, We were threatened, coerced and cautioned~ Of course we crossed it anyway, As we scattered away that diamond day.

A too bright day of dappled paths and sun stripped fences, Light shards bouncing, scattering, scampering, Hanging sheets, white and playing, Laundry baskets pulled along, close pins pinching, towels flapping, Hunting berries down the canyon, Pulling onions, shelling peas, Harvest coming, ripening, softening, Swelling in the summer sun. Central Park Reservoir Berries

It comes to pass in the last days of summer that one must grab the chance to stroll (well, step carefully) along a nature-strewn path. Ideally, as did this particular foot, one's foot must access grass, twigs, dirt, leaves and most of all a flat boulder.  These elements allow the foot to obtain grounding and thereby normalizes the electrical energy in the entire life form as well as in the boulder itself. Do not dally, for Autumn is on the wing.

It’s rusty in the garage, that old power mower. Fan belt and starter cord. BBRRiiieeeeeeiiimmmmc-c -c ccc  BRRRrrrrriiiiiiiiimBRUMMMmmmm mmmmm Black noise, oily gas-- no sleeping in! Dad, holding back the unleashed thing, Keeping on track, alive with danger. I think about those reel hand mowers-- Blades bent in tempered waves, Snipping off the grass and clover. Push--Push, sticky with playng.  Will you please mow the damn lawn? Whirrr sc ccscscscscscssscciciciccc, whirr. So much time invested In this simple act of keeping up. The soft and drying new mown streaks, Those raked-up clippings, bubbly with summer, That green, sweet, dewy smell of morning, Dinner outside early in the afternoon.

August leaves in transparent colors Transparent Leaves of August

There is just something magical about blue flowers in the tail of summer

This Long Needle Pine is coping as best it can with the August heat.  These large cones appear only on the sunny side of the tree, but the trade off is they must seek shade behind the thin, wispy needles.  However, it has also been suggested that these cones are shy.  At night, when all is quiet in Central Park, they brush away the needles and bathe in starlight. Long Needle Pine behind the Metropolitan Museum of Art

An early end to a late summer day, rounded out with a sun rimming rainbow Looking South toward Turtle Pond, September 2010

When did it go away, that blue of summer. A circle drive with white paint and bubblegum, Grass green with red brown leaves, velvet sided. My childhood lover out back playing. Basketball! Yes, on a lot of dried and cracking mud Dusty with bouncing. Do you feel it now sometimes? Of course I don't, we can’t read minds, I don’t allow it! No, but once upon a time, a focus crystal turned our intersecting worlds to liquid color, A blue-green dress with daisies, The crinkle of an unwrapped piece of time. A fortune in a cookie, A dribble and a showoff shot, Barefoot summers, aware beyond perceiving. Across 5th Avenue from the Metropolitan Museum of Art

The Miracle 94th Street Tree Bed Squash have yielded a bumper crop of beautiful and tasty blossoms this summer- shared with neighbors, small children and at least one lady bug.  However, they are not destined to grow actual Summer Squash.  Although we are saddened at the seasonal passing of  these fertile friends, the dedicated and happy Urban Volunteers are protecting those still with us with a rim of double string and bamboo. Furthermore, our mighty Urban Volunteers are improving the life of these lovely plants, and their four month old  Kentucky Coffee Trees, with marigolds and yellow snapdragons.                       the Mighty Urban Volunteers

Finally after months of searching the records, I have identified the subject in the photo below. She or he is Jean-Noir. Jean has been hanging around Squiva's neighborhood since last February! Well! this evening I was looking for Squiva to say hello.  Squiva was unavailable, but guess who came out to play?                         Meet Squivita l'Noir!

I love a two-faced path, half lit by a  lamp the color of fireflies. Walking West Near 86th Street, 2010 August

Things are not good economically, as we know.  Not one but two of  Squiva's regular clients have cancelled because of poor economic conditions.  Frankly, Squiva is concerned about the rent.  He (or she) asked me couldn't I please use another Union photo, and of course I said yes.  As you can see, we selected the picture in three quarter view to avoid any thinness in the face.  Squiva is concerned that the tail is losing a certain fluffy well-being, but I think it is quite beautiful, and Squiva did look much happier after the shoot. 

Go back to the grassy fizzy place with a peach colored mist and flattened bubble gum. Go back to nights alight with honeysuckles, where ball games spin. Go back to awaken with a robin's nest and two blue eggs in the poplar trees. Go back to the grasshopper path with stickers and bare feet and horny toads and mud. Go back into a summer evening, with a cricket and an arching cigarette, flicked by a silent smoker on a porch. Come back with green and gold and clear red underpinnings. Come back with a small ball of open sky to play with. Come back to touch a finger tip. After all, why not?

Have you noticed? A good mudpuddle may appear to dry, but it remains as quiet and simple as a whiff of smoke to live another day. It's winter now, deep in January. There they are smaller, true, and frozen, but they will survive to live another spring.

Sunflowers at the Metropolitan

I love a vacant lot. I bet there's one around your corner. You can tell from the full flowers and weeds that this one is in late summer. The fence, wide wire, is just perfect for the wildflowers. Here, there's a lot of moisture, but I can smell the dusty dirt from home. Wild barley and stinkweed and yellow blossoms and tufted spires with smallish long grains that stick with your clothes. And remember the high wild grasses with three inch fuzzy ends like caterpillars?

I saw the magic tree again today. It’s by the path about half way up. I bet you have one-- with the odd shape, or the hollow, or just the apple tree you love or the one over at the other place. The one with the initials, the birch, the aspen that reminds. The magic tree is hollow down to the ground from head high. Pruners have gotten to it now and then, but it is still heavy to the ground with leaves. I picked a leaf and gave it to my friend, who was shut in for awhile. I asked the tree first of course. The tree has maple shaped leaves and a lumpy old trunk with two prongs around the hollow. It’s not large for a big tree, but it isn’t a small one either. It’s hard to identify, but it turns yellowish and brown in fall like a maple sycamore. One year there were mushrooms in the hollow. Large ones, as big as saucers. I’m careful near the entrance, just in case.