Discovering Beauty in Everyday Life

Meet Esquilito! Esquilito is a young theatrical arts student from the The Squilliard School for Modeling and Movies in Brazil.  It is obvious from the beautiful positioning, arching and transparency of Esquilito’s tail that he has been trained by our own Central Park Squiva.  Indeed, The Squilliard School is the latest Academy to be created by Squiva, who is the Artistic Director and Founder.  Esquilito has been entrusted with a message for us: My Dear Beloved Fans, admirers and members of the National Union of The Squirrels, I am disappointed to tell you that starting the Brazilian school has been ghastly difficult!  The existing training is so poorly conceived that it is all I can do to keep up my spirits.   But, I know Brazil needs my special talents, training, and artistry!  Please welcome my little Esquilito, who will be my liaison while I am away in these sticky surroundings.  Monkeys!  Yes... I don’t know where to start... Anyway, Esquilito is a very exceptional st

I crave that weary, empty cave Those unremitting ribbons of geology Those booming echoes drip by drip Sneaking down the cranial walls Etching with acid despair. I crawl into the water, weighted by the world Slipping into the muddy bottom Staring down the midnight eels. Vitality drawn thin as a crack. Do not inhale, don’t do it! Do not drown in watery inches! Wait for one more morning sun Shafting through the silting creek beds, Dappled with leaves and colored stones. Green with Garden Hose

There once was a leaf named Horatio Who was looking around for a way to show How grand he would be in a color photo. Leaf loved his gorgeous physique and technique, Leaf was certain his hue was unique, what mystique! Leaf was strong not dependent not weak, but a sheik! All alone On his own He had grown. Take a photo of Me, said he, not the tree! What good is a tree to a Me?

If on your travels today you stumble upon a lilac, breath deeply and remember another spring day, almost like this very one, when a lilac walked into your heart. May Lilacs in the Conservancy Gardens, Central Park

There are many successful ways to serve tulips. One of the most popular is the Park Avenue Red Tulip Platter featured here in duplicate. Diners are warned, of course, to avoid taxicabs and to obey all traffic signals.

It happened in a newborn moment sparkling with imbroglios of fortune catching you with snaggles, burying their burning tendrils in your palm. Where is the symphony, the opera and the rat-tat-tat? Would you settle for that field of growing grain? Stalks whiskered with morning dew, breaking the sunlight into laughter, your touch as dear as astrophysics. Yellow Tulips, Genus Sureptitious, 9 years old!!

Stippity steppity stoop. I’m always out of the loop. Whatever goes on, If I’m right or I’m wrong, I’m always outside of the group! The other day I happened to say A thing or two About what we should do About saving the day. Not any old day, no, not any at all! This particular day that’s about to befall Us is laden with flowers and birds everywhere, With their pollen and tweets and their devil may care, And their buds and their twigs and their pre-summer sprawl-- We’ve seen nothing like this since the mess last fall! Before it’s too late we should mow, we should prune! We should spray, we should weed, and we must do it soon. Let it go till tomorrow And much to our sorrow The fields and the trails and the streets will be strewn With Petals! with roots! spirea! and yarrow! Central Park Italian Garden, Spring 2013

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

Cherry Blossoms, 2013!!

Grackle watching spring unfold in Central Park Central Park Near the Boathouse If you can not see this chirbit, listen to it here http://chirb.it/ErGMNN Mission for today: Take care to notice one bird; sparrows are usually available. See how it moves from flight to landing to flight. Watch it do something sparrow-ish. It's always a good idea to take a note. Inhale...Exhale... Check this out on Chirbit

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?

Light guides us into spring, protecting the last fall leaves.

Boulder watching over the First Snowdrops of the year.

There is nothing quite as captivating as a Late Winter MudPuddle, preparing for spring, and with a walking Tree !

Robin, Robin Redbreast, where art thou? "I’m sitting in a tree but I don’t know how; I ended up here on this limb somehow." You flew around and landed there as simple as can be. "You’re very funny so they say, but why me instead of thee?" You silly bird I’ll tell you why, It’s difficult for me to fly, But you have feathers and wings and things! "I do? Oh my Gosh! Are these things wings?" Central Park Magnolia Tree Getting Ready for Spring Addendum from Vera A. of Denver Standing tall upon the crest, greeting Spring - Robin redbreast. Looking regal, fat and firm Scanning for a nice March worm. Gingerly testing out his skill. Can I still do the robin trill? What a voice! You're right on track. We're so glad to see you back.

There’s a secret self inside me hidden, dry as tinder, waiting for the fuse to spark. Lighting up the ancient networks finding dreams as bright as the day they were born.

Oh Winter Sun, where art Thou? Thou art Missing! Oh Spring Thaw, why art Thee not nipping at my frozen Roots? 'Tis nigh on March! Art thou Shy? Harlem Meer in February 2013 For the likely derivation of this scale, see Fahrenheit, The Straight Dope