Discovering Beauty in Everyday Life

Once upon a time, in the near reaches of Central Park, there lived a very large Elf-Fairy. Confusing as elf-fairies are in general, ours has learned to answer simply to the call of El Fair the Fair One, or Elffo the Fair for short. Elffo seldom appears in person (during the day), since elf-fairies are so sensitive. For many years they were held in captivity until they escaped their original planet. Usually, they find a low-lying bush in which to dwell. Now Elffo is among the most lucky. The amazing Central Park Smoke Tree has made a place for Elffo under its inner most branches. For a few weeks each summer, Elffo can use Smoke as a Screen, and gaze out at the New York fauna at will. Only the trained eye can find Elffo the Fair! Can you find Elffo? If so leave a comment or an email and I’ll post your description of Elffo!

I crave those times I refused to notice, when I lived behind the separator, catching reflections in the transparent screen: red snowsuits glancing by in January, spring-green boots. August—limp, dry, sticky with sap. Camping in the lodgepole pines, quiet needle carpets crunching, hiking, breathing, always such a long way to go. Why am I always, always last? I am weighted down with last year’s dinners. I see a paint drip frozen dry on the yellow wall. Why notice it now, when the time to fix is over? Staring out the dusty window, Rain throwing spatters down my face. From Light to Dark on Madison Avenue

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

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)

Innocent lion-taming maiden unaware of the evil forces of Rodin rapidly closing in. Metropolitan Museum of Art

There are those who will quibble and nibble and gripe About focus and lighting –well you know the type. They miss all the fun with their nitpicking jury: Some pansies are born to be blurry!

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!!

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

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

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.

Did you ever think your heart got unzipped and didn’t go back together right? Did you let your inside out and just find a chill in the sinews? Did you still leave a little open space just in case a key fit one more time into that stitched-up secret door? Well, I wish I knew more about it. There’s a small ache I remember though, a little core of a thing, no bigger than a raindrop hanging on a lilac leaf. Summer, it was summer, not a cold February day with a frozen wind. A summer raindrop, hanging from the center vein. Yes, a heart shaped lilac leaf, dark green. Not red and gnawed from too many interruptions.

Jogger unaware he is falling off the edge of the earth Central Park Reservoir

Aching and desiring Shivering into a thawing crack Playing a hide and seeking game Pushing out and holding back. Frozen and burning in the winter fire Spinning and breaking from the inside out Counting on another spring To conjure and decipher what it’s all about.

Winter storm Nemo on East 94th:  1 AM in the middle of the street. Nemo at 1:30 AM in NYC

Peace be with people who carry the songs For those who wish only to listen. It’s a holistic view of the old or the new On this or that planar concoction. Concoction, well, oops! Perhaps the wrong word, “Connection” may better suffice. Or “Conception” now that is a fabulous word! It’s best to elide and then try to decide.... With a slice and a splice and a juxtaposition, We have a conceptoconnected transition! the MoMA, December 2012

There is an advantage of having Blue as the New Red and Green. It suits the chilled evening wanderers, as they go passing through an epiphany. East 58th Street, New York, 2013 (Taken with iPhone)

Tromp, tromp, shiver and shake It’s too cold to take a walk to the lake We will stay in bed with a book instead And post a shot from a previous lot. ********  Today’s Quiz: The woman in this picture is a) Throwing away an ice cream wrapper b) Petting a small animal c) Reprimanding a small child (out of frame on the right) d) Looking for a toy submarine without a periscope. e) Other   Women at North West Corner of Harlem Meer YES! The correct answer is ---                                                          e) Other  !!

What happens when love takes the time to strengthen, what happens if it passes, and the day tomorrow leaves behind is chilled and withed, holding us without a chance, at the drop off point where death takes over, how can we hold the weary fort, when battle scars the very heart of the earth. How can we love without knowing, how can we hold on without a knotted center keeping us from flying off, how can I watch the day die and still live to see the morning sneaking back to life against the sallow sky? I did, and then I turned around and just walked out of the picture. What could I do? I didn't know how to talk it over. Magnolia Buds in December, Central Park

Really, I don't want to keep harping on it, but the buildings in Manhattan keep evaporating, and nobody is paying attention! Here's another one downtown, just turning into mist before our eyes, and not a bus, not a bus passenger, nobody seems to be missing them! I don't know what to do anymore. I mean, who do you call? Lower Manhattan, West Side

We all know that elements as beautifully made as Central Park has to be constructed. Well we do know who's actually behind things like beauty. Nonetheless, some elements of earthly movement is a maintenance reality. The construction den in central park is so seldom noticed that it seriously has to be seen to be beieved...