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

Away from its birth nest for the very first time, With translucent tail held high in the balance position,  Young Squivino carefully walks along a branch, Awake in the world For the very first time.

 Even the sleekest, straightest, tallest, glassiest, richest-by-the-square-foot skyscraper needs a little natural softening-up to lure a wary traveler floating by Sky scraper ~ New York City

Time shattered that day, when I saw through a crack, another teaming, seething, crystal world, (I was stuck on my usual side) It was a   bubblegum world, with grassy places, trees awake with new leaves, old limbs fading with the death of winter, Look, There’s a beauty!   Boughs swinging in the windy sun, searching for a new spring nest.   

TWEET!!  Is that the same dull winter sparrow bursting with life like a happy bud? Is that me, with clumps of spirit blossoms resting in my hand? Me, with a new leaf painted in my soul? Reservoir April 2016

I came across a gift the other evening, among the discards and the wannabes, My #2 New York Kentucky Coffee tree, with pods for the very first time. Cool to the touch, leaves as soft as a kitten, Powder on the underside, sleek and satin on the top. Translucent in the pale evening. Swirling and singing, each leaf an instrument, weaving up a fractal symphony.   An instrument of the wind, certain in the late afternoon. New York Kentucky Coffee Tree, Summer 2015

AH HH H hh hh hh h h... The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh, and wither it goeth: So is everyone that is born of the Spirit. John 3:8 --

Gone are the days when I would lament About this, about that, about where the days went, These days, I know what to do with my time, I relax, I sit back, and I think up a rhyme! Rhyming Leaves Outside 138 E. 94th Street

The world is frought but I am not. Two Central Park Trees Falling in Love

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

Our dedicated Park researchers have identified a very disturbing trend:  After watching many joggers zigging and zagging for no obvious reason, our researchers submitted their observation to their trusty data warehouse software. The ensuing data analyzing, modeling, graphing, reverse decision-tree detecting, geographic and holographic (AMGRD GH) plotting uncovered a disturbing dynamic. Joggers are avoiding any possibility for self-reflection and that means avoiding mudpuddles. So far we are not concerned, since the avoidance activity remains passive. Should these same joggers decide the problem is not in themselves but in the mudpuddles, we will have to take action. Although mudpuddles are immortal, they have been forced into hiding and into entirely new locations during past anti-mudpuddle campaigns. We are standing fast. North Reservoir Path, Central Park in Late Spring (2013)

Think of a time you could dream, way back when, Well, believe it or not it has happened again! That little red hen and the mouse and the clock, Tug boat, blue oxen, the bean and the stalk, The castle, the draw bridge, the glass slipper too, Andromeda! Africa! Waiting for you! Wherever, however, whenever, whoever, Never say never whatever you do. If your dreams seem dead, here’s a strategy for you, Remember back to spring when we thought we lost Blue. Blue, our young Spruce is almost Four!

To some people this photo may seem awkward, but in New York City we have a terrible time with people dropping their plows. New York, Upper East Sude

Our Weeping Willow was damaged in Hurrican Sandy, but look at her now! Nothing is so elegantly spring. Just West of the Harlem Meer, Central Park, April

It’s the daily-ness that wore me down, the over and over and on and on. Winter thudding along, mashing thoughts of spring into the muddy creases, Waiting, waiting. Will nothing ever happen? I am frozen like fingers on a frost-bit doorknob. No don’t try to open it, I’ve tried. Oh, it’s the daily-ness of winter, where is spring? How can I stop this brain-dead dialog, conjuring up a wrinkled copy of last year’s anticipation? Can't I give it one more try? Force out one more inaudible day? Waiting on the curbs and playgrounds, watching through the doors and windows, trudging after draining, unmet expectations along that repetitious path into another afternoon. I saw the yellow first and then that somehow different green: transparent, sun-lit, red-tipped, replicating life. Sun slanting and shifting through the afternoon showers, breaking into rainbows. English Conservancy Garden, April 2013 English Conservancy Gardens, Central Park April 2013

Searching, waiting, watching Wondering, praying, pretending Wishing, imaging, insisting! These old green leaves, Wintered over, Simulating new spring green, Witch hazel, yellow and orange, So like forsythia, yet! Where is the booming yellow, Crashing over banks and edges, Catching a sniff of dainty pink?

I know it’s the way I am looking at things, So I think I’ll change my mind. The arrows and slings that fortune brings Are the usual kind, I find, so I’ve decided to change the way I project, The way I project, the way I detect To ways positively inclined, so When fate seems determined to screw up the week I'll just give my perceptions a suitable tweak! If plans go awry and we're sadly depressed Well, perhaps we are actually just being blessed With a chance to redeem that unfulfilled dream We may have in our hearts and yet never expressed. New York Kentucky Coffee Tree on a Winter Night

Over and over New York traffic police have tried to manage ticketing with grace and accuracy. However, they have been constantly hampered by budgetary and aesthetic considerations. Multiple methods have been in place to solve these problems, but the most exciting is the new pilot YellowLeaf Study Project.   YellowLeaf simply models the wind, seasons and weather. As you can see, the vehicles that have been parked for sometime can be easily identified. Did you not respect Alternate Side of the Street Parking? You have been punked!

I don’t know how I lost my footing Slipping away into transitory time Caught on cut stumps, strafed with might have beens Crying for those torn and lost forever. Calling out, Red Beacon blazed and Pulled me back into the moment. “Steady as you go” whispered Quiet Beacon,   “I am awake for you”.