Discovering Beauty in Everyday Life

Evening is settling among the bricks and blossoms Sparrows are tweeting their last goodnights Our pathfinders are coming home.  The narrower the path, the better the adventure

   I'm happy, and I'm dancing and I'm Yellow! (or Flavo if you prefer the more flavorful Latin) Family Ginkgoaceae – Ginkgo family Genus Ginkgo L. – ginkgo Species Ginkgo biloba L. – maidenhair tree                                           Premium Specimen of a New York Park Avenue Gingko Biloba

See through yellow petals, Shadows drawn with a pallet knife

Life seeps away with falling blossoms, Spring leaves left behind, Wet petals everywhere!  

I am born with beauty surounding every twig and blade refracting every color. Touch me now before I go.

Let the sap of summer nourish me, like a small bough, with a leaf stuck for life to its limb. Let the autumn wind care for my soul. So what if winter crawls over my roots!

Thank you for your service.... Callery Pear Tree Leaves, November 24 2016 /br /br

On attempting to discover the steps on the way outside Front Steps On Attaining Footing on the Sidewalk Sidewalk and Tree Bed On Achieving a Restaurant that is Opened Complete Strangers Dining in a Turkish Restaurant

Of course I remember September! Red cliffs of rosy, happy sandstone, trees glowing, no fear for winter, not those days with all our layers. I settled down though, under greyer skies, . foggy skies with rubber boots on, wading through the white caps, sailing over dark green waters. What if I hadn’t jumped at the chance? Lept into the backseat of that four door traveling fall? There’s only words left now, just a bunch of letters strewn along, making up lines as they go.      A bread crumb life, longing after the sandstone hills, Oh, how I need another century! A Wet Day in Late September Mission for today: What if we have another Century afterall? 1. Think about what you might do tomorrow then, 2. Why not? 3. I mean, it's only one day, right? It's always a good idea to take a note. “Nothing is impossible, the word itself says ‘I’m possible’!” — Audrey Hepburn posted by http://this-stupid-thing.tumblr.com/

Attention All Bystanders! Attention ! Attention !! We had an early report of a Flower Breakout on the Upper East Side, and the rumors have been confirmed! Several dozen small daisy-like blossoms, including stems, have managed to escape confinement and are loose and at large. Several have been captured, but many are still out there! Although these particular inmates are not known to be dangerous, they have been under house arrest for many months and may have acquired questionable behavior characteristics. Even worse, these blossoms may be in danger themselves, from unattentive walkers and unfriendly dogs! If you spot any suspicious flowers and stems of any kind, please notify The Authorities instantly. You may save a life. Escaping flowers caught in the glare of a searching headlight

The night dies and a day is born, when do we turn on the timing? Is it the lights and the dramas, or the harvests and the noon time bells? Go ahead and take the stars, for I have no more use for them. Take the sun away and let me cope as best I can, pale blacks and white greys will cover the differentiations. Madison Avenue and 106th (dawn/dusk) Your Mission, should you choose to accept it, is to pause midway between, say, this and that; or between, say, here and hereafter, where and why, or whichever and whichnever. Take a pause only long enough to see the commonality of things, and then--back to splitting seconds!

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

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!

Desire rubs itself into your palms like rusty gravel, into your face like those wrenching wringing drying clothes hanging by the grace of god.  But then, See the image of that flower root, sucking sunlight into the earth. Hear the image of a torn root mending, hidden there under the sidewalk rain. I have a garden with a marigold, a yellow pansy in the window box, a tree living a shepherdless life.