Discovering Beauty in Everyday Life

Don't sit under the magnolia tree, with anyone else but me!

It's another snowing February day, and I cannot resist the memory of a crescendo of gates.  A Crescendo of Gates (Jane C.)

80 second long....that's short! Posted by : foozooljalal July 08, 2009 Perpetual Jazzile - Africa this group is using their hands to simulate rain and thunder sound Senior Moment Video from untrackable source! Music from Windows Sample Music folder: Ludwig van Beethoven, composer. Seattle Symphony. Gerard Schwarz, director, Beethoven: Symphonies Nos. 5 & 9 "Choral"; Piano Concerto No. 5 "Emperor" Disc 1 http://windowsmedia.com/mediaguide/albuminfo/albuminfo.asp?Partner=Dell Computer Corporation&locale=409&version=9.0.0.4507&a_id=R%20%20%20688737

My favorite trees growing up were the 2 adjacent catalpas as we walked to school. We so often pulled off a seed pod for swords or staffs or wands or other rods our imaginations were requiring. Do you remember them? Now I have a huge catalpa tree in my front yard. Daddy and I planted it together when it was a spindly 7' tall and about 3" in diameter. I think of him every time I see my beloved tree. But mine is a female Western Catalpa, so it blooms a magnificent clump of delightfully sweet-smelling, pale orchid-like blossoms that shroud the tree for about 10 days. It is magnificent. Cut the blossoms and bring them inside and they barely last at all; they are meant to adorn the tree for the few short days in summer. About two summers ago there were 3 unknown children in my yard harvesting swords. They seemed a bit skittish. In memory (and defiance) of our childhood churlish neighborhood adult, I went outside and told them they were welcome to have as many as they liked, an

While on a recent wander in the local museum, I observed these two great ladies held captive by an unseen entity in the upper  middle distance. 

Isn't it nice to remember New York is the greatest city in the world

There I was again, out in the cold afternoon looking for the perfect puddle. I might have been Sherlock with a magnifying glass, when I took a slight misstep... crunch. crunch? Yes! Sightly soggy sounding, but definitely and none the less a crunch. There it was! The perfect sounding puddle right beneath my toe. Can you hear it?

Yes, I remember. We left a track or two among the fray. Rush and scramble, turn and bounce. Cracking silence, muffled by a hat. Holding wet handfuls of winter.

I promise this is my last comment about Crestone and Southern Colorado for awhile! But I have to point out that Crestone is 40 miles from Alamosa, which is very small. Here is the Alamosa Airport Tarmac and Runway, as seen from the departure lounge. We waited and waited. It was cold and snowy. The plane finally arrived. I dawdled. Perhaps a small fear? Perhaps simply waiting my turn? Here are the passengers ahead of me boarding. Mind you, this plane is the one that flies over the craggy, rocky, stony, snowcapped 14,000 foot peaks. Yes, this  is the entire plane.  And that's the runway, too.

 One   ....  Two... Three!

A year ago I broke my arm on a wet and beautiful day with golden leaves.  I came home with a foam rubber sling—awkward, blue, and huge and with small breathing holes. Finally, after tribulations, we obtained a prescription, and I brought it home looking forward to a nice pain pill. They put it into a childproof bottle. One handed, I considered a hammer and tried a wrench. Finally, I stood outside and waited for a child, who opened it for me.   To show you what it was like to walk that morning, just look. This time of year it’s just that way. Wherever we look there’s beauty.

Sometimes I cannot believe my luck. I was walking down this messy and disheveled street, and there it was: a tantric figure dancing in the sunlight. Who planted it? How did it survive the upheavals? How gracious that so many must have worked around  this mythic dancer nourishing it  across the years.

There isn’t anything like a New England fall, even a small piece of it. Look at the colors. There’s something about taking a bus. Have you noticed? It’s hard to describe, but the key is not to take a bus in rush hour or when in a hurry. Just hop on when you are feeling giddy. Pretend you are on a tour, and simply hop off! Near here, there’s a dusty antique shop that opens on the owner’s whim. I hadn’t been in there for several years, since I purchased an old coal bucket. Today it had a collection of lamps made from plumbing pipes. Lots of joins, lots of elbows, lots of pipe! I got out without them, but barely.

Here are three photos of my feather on three spots of pavement within a yard of one another. How lucky to find such a feather amid the cemented urban cacophony.

There's no denying the time for action is upon us. We must go forth and aquire our bulb(s). For those who already have a bulb in their possession, it is time to settle on a site. Now is also the time to consider branching out in the direction of a daffodil, since daffodils also fare well in vacant spots. Here’s an example of a successful tulip, encountered in the wild.   It is heartbreakingly beautiful

Do you have so much to say that it seems impossible? I know I feel as though there’s no place to put today’s blue sky, or the new yellows in the honey locust tree across the street, or today’s window box. I remember the first columbines, full of early summer. They look out of place at first to a Colorado girl, with their yellows and violet. I look more carefully along with a friend, and I begin to see these rowdy flowers, city-born and city-bred, through new eyes. And here’s the truth of the matter! Photo by Barbara Fisher

It was a quiet afternoon with nothing untoward going on, except for the foot. It was plainly visible near the stoop of a stately home. Not only was it clearly detached, but there was no trace of the rest of the anatomy, and it is a very Big Foot. This was no ordinary Law and Order foot. First of all, it’s close to 6 feet (well, six ordinary feet) long and just as high, and made of concrete! Was it born here in a stately sculpting orgy? Was it brought home from a disastrous nineteenth century trudge around the lesser known world? It is impossible to construe the purpose or meaning of such a discovery, and therefore it seems clear there is none, no matter how hard we stir. Sometimes a Big Foot is simply that.

* from childhood--Ibid., Op Cit. & Oops They are breaking up the street outside my window. Ah! And who  are They? "Put This over There next to That." Put What? "This!" Where? "There!" Oh, you mean put This There! I see.    Who else would eat a street other than That Digging Thing operated by Them? Pronouns! I am reminded of childhood, and I must go see.

This week is EXPERIMENT week! It’s always nice to try something very different from the usual something, and my usual somethings omit Basement Clubs Painted Black Staying Up Late Getting Stamps on the Back of My Hand Having Fun After Midnight! So Let’s have a cheer for the Our Vision band at the downstairs Ace of Clubs!

planning pansies Originally uploaded by dmil0 I've been told recently that gratitude and paying attention in the moment will "hold me in good stead". I naturally have passed on this advice without wondering what in the world? Stead? Can you be In Stead? At Home in Stead? Well! The New Century Dictionary clarified with the following quotes: "Fly therefore, fly this fearefull stead anon" (Faerie Queene) or, "The Souldier may not move from watchfull sted [sic]" (same Faerie Queene). Ok.