Discovering Beauty in Everyday Life

I remember the smell of mud pies in an asphalt puddle Toes snuggling in the green, green grass An ant here and there That was the day I inked-in the lines. No more scratching out. No more waiting around for that long-gone miracle. After all, there's a  new dream just around the corner scampering into the cacaphony,  Wrapped in new minted leaves,  gh the cacaphony,

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

Shooting star wishes for another chance To be a simple asteroid Orbit after orbit Time and time again

Warning!  Warning!  Suicide Puddle Ahead! by Staff puddle finder At approximately 4:22 this afternoon we received a report that a possible Suicide Puddle had been cited near the bridle path underpass directly down from the South Reservoir Pump Station.  Upon investigation it was determined that the requisite Suicide Puddle elements had indeed conflued.  Not only was this puddle Suicidistic but it was also a Seducing Puddle, designed to lure admirers into it's sphere.  A warning cone was placed to mark the spot for pedestrians and moving vehicles such as autos.    Only moments later our Staff Puddle Finder found a woman at the puddle's edge, captivated.  Armed personnel were called, and a rescue was executed.  The woman's identity is obscured using advanced photo technology.     Seductive Suicide Puddle

Many of you mudpuddle trackers have been concerned, as have I, that certain parties may succeed in their efforts to relocate our most dedicated reflecting mudpuddles .  I use the word relocate, because we know that mudpuddles are spiritual and immortal and cannot be ( ssshhhhhh -- eradicated ...).  They may be forced underground and out of sight, but their soul does not perish.  This puddle has lived here since the late 1800s. Thankfully this  vigorous mudpuddle remains a lusty beacon for oncoming spring. North West Reservoir Bridle Path, March 211

I love the foreverness of mudpuddles, and I certainly cannot resist an entire fuzzy set of them! Why is our set of forever mudpuddles fuzzy?  Why is it not a crisp set? Well! First of all, because I am a fuzzy-set sort of person.  In a fuzzy set, one doesn't know whether an element (mudpuddle) is a member of the set or not,  because we have incomplete or missing information.  We do not know for certain, for example, whether or not Every One of our Mudpuddles is Entirely Immortal.   But, we are willing to take a chance.. In a crisp (or classical) set, an element either belongs, or does not belong, to the set.  Personally, I like a little room for doubt~~a wee wiggle of ambiguity, if I may.  Fuzzy Set of Mudpuddles

I almost missed it, pre-occupied as I was. . Nothing fast enough for me! Right, left, scratch and skid. Damn snow. Who's in charge, and where's the salt? I have some thoughts to mull about and very little time. Move over! I hunkered at the corner curb to watch my step, and in that pause, I paid attention.  And look what I got for my money.

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?

The winter freeze has thawed, and it is time for a bit of spring.  I know it's premature, but I cannot resist a little indulgence in a clear, non-icy puddle.  Along the running path nearby, there's a favorite I have been watching for several years.  Graders come, land-levelers go, dirt arrives in piles nearby for shovelling.  My dear mudpuddle!  It survives them all.  And why not?  Beauty is a trancendental item. (Look carefully, and you will catch sight of new puddles just recently born)

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.

Water Wind, Sky and Starry metal

Our mudpuddle to be now looks the same, but it is enriched with one new reflection. 

A quiet afternoon, cold, late fall. Who would suspect that perhaps a nearby puddle was seeking immortality in mud? This lucky puddle has caught a person waiting for a bus. A good mudpuddle takes time to grow and to understand the landscape of home, full of reflections.

There’s something about a mud-puddle. They fascinate me, since they appear to be immortal. People pile on the dirt and sod, the gravel and the asphalt. Laying in wait, however, is the soul of a puddle. Who could resist a swim in a puddle? Not a sparrow, not a puppy, not a leaf.