Discovering Beauty in Everyday Life

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.

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.

The spiritual essence of Spring! Park Bench in the French Garden in Central Park

Spring is washing away the last traces of winter from the Harlem hillside. How can those dry and brittle ends swell with such uncontainable beauty? Looking down onto the Harlem Meer, Spring 2011

Away with those judges!, They're all full of grudges from when they competed and wound up defeated with scathing reviews for their smudges. Off with the critic! they're all analytic their pristine advice will completely suffice to turn any true artist arthritic. Stick with the masters of grandeur and grace they are scattering beauty all over the place! Every sprig must be clothed, every twig every stem there's a bud and a blossom for each one of them. There's a petal or two that are meant for you too bringing showers of grace to your place, just in case you have something to do that requires a few.

Capitol chemists learns from fully expressed decoration Pear Tree. Capitol Chemists on First Avenue near 85th Street

Shall we stay together one more spring? I’d like to taste a cherry blossom on my tongue and feel the fading winter hand in hand. We could hear the dappled shadows whisper-- We could walk the petal carpet one more time.  I’d like to do that. Yoshino Cherry Trees East of the Central Park Reservoir ~ March 2012

Breath in, Breath out, Yes! It's still there! What happened to the dreary, soot-filled sidewalks? And the lifeless, sapless trees?  Were we mistaken about it after all? Ninety Third and Madison: New York City in March

I know, it’s dangerous to fall in love With that sunny leaf rolling out of its bud, With that just-so razor tipped green. How did it sneak behind the lines, becoming irreplaceable? That fragile, bendy, veiny, needy, wispy, happy thing? That little life on its twiggy wing?.  So far from Believe it or Not and Daring-Do, So far from Financial Planning, So close to my mending heart Full of its own wet and willow green.

It's barely May, yet summer has glossed the sidewalk shade trees with perfect pint-sized leaves.  Here on East 94th Street this young sidewalk tree provides a perfect canopy for a chilly sunny afternoon. North side of East 94th Street off Park Avenue

Robino has been practicing his modeling and posing  for an entire year,  and look what determination has accomplished!  Not only has Robino mastered the art of calm and beautiful sitting, he has also learned to appear only in the most concordant settings to complement his beautiful colors. 

Late March cold Rains have fled, bringing in April showers of Spring beauty Second Magic Tree, behind the Metropolitan Museum of Art

Young Being sought and sought, trekked and trekked, Thought and thought.. Home held an inner compass though, that pointed consistently north. Awake at dawn and a northern shadow, Bedded at night under shading boughs. It isn’t what Young had in mind, yet that's the way it was. Mid Being fought and fought, married and married, Bought and bought.  A suitcase here a bungalow there, Mid Being traveled everywhere. Awake in Jakarta with oxen and coffee, Bedded in Bali with sandalwood flowers. Mid Being wanted more, but that’s just the way it was. Aging Being walks lightly, careful and carefree, Rolling and tossing, Falling softly with the pieces of  life, raw as a stone. Up waiting for sap at the tip of a branch, Down bound in corners with metal and  mirrors. Aging Being picks and chooses, and that's the way it turns out. Life Convenes in Midtown

All the Way from China (replay) I have an old toy that came from China,  Animals cut from colored cloth and cotton batting Threaded with embroidery. A bird, a frog, a dragon and a dog,  One after the other on a string. It wasn’t spring then but I was there for certain. I was there when the pomegranates sold from baskets set on blankets, When wooden carts were pulled by hand,  When bicycles packed the hard roads, When people rolled and wrapped the harvest. It was fall of course, not spring.  I was there, though, for certain.

First example installment of the Puddles and Poetry Series (uhm, without the poetry)   The Classic Mudpuddle on a Running Track is designed for maximum splash with minimal avoidance clearance.  This photo is exceptional, since the muddy puddle-silt has settled to reveal the puddle's inner cloud.  Cloud puddles are rarely so beautiful.    Reservoir Running Track Mudpuddle with Clouds and Fence

I’ll go you one better! He said, and tossed in a day of his own. I saw why he raised me; the day was a snappy one, up early, hit the roaring playing fields, happy after dinner treats. I’ll call, said I, and threw in one of my best. A cool morning, sun barely up, afternoon with needles crunching in the dry mountains, evening honeysuckles I’ve two races won, sweet aftershave and a golden trophy ring, said He. I guess I’m losing this one then, I said. I’ve a room of my own with candle wax and soft shadows in the moonlight.  April, 2008

I remember winter.  Those  bleak-lit days. Day after day; day in day out; crawling along their tedious way.   Snow flakes as big as pillows, ice like cedar. Green needles and melting water slipping through the spaces. Oh yes, and icey stars so clear you want to count them. Have you ever seen too much beauty? To many shimmers tugging, clutching on your soul? Uncut streams of life swirling and spinning? a tiny newborn mite nibbling on a newborn leaf? I found a four-leaf clover pressed and living  in a book  for almost 40 years.