Discovering Beauty in Everyday Life

I had an apple tree with a white painted trunk And grass as green as the dog could make it Round patches of it six inches high We hid eggs in the centre where the yellow was. It was a late blooming tree with the sweetest apples Crisp bite, tart smelling, clear sap Cool tongue, red with life. How I loved the summer rain And clothes lines wet with sheets My chest aches for the dazzle of it My gut warms with resonance My throat gasps for the fragrance of it. It was a hard winter the year they took our apple tree Ice and whiteout blizzards Warnings on the radio Skidding spinning tires Sliding downhill sideways. There's  many seasons past by now Since that harsh winter cut us down Yet the roots still lay there buried deep. The other day I came upon a  tucked and folded memory Clouded now and jumbled but I'm certain that I chanced to see A newly budded apple tree  April 2010, North East Reservoir Path 

A recent expedition into the seldom charted reaches of Northern Central Park has revealed an astonishing matter:  Winter has created a fine example of Bonsai cultivation using North Central Park for the cultivation tray. Notice the delicate balance of textures in the rocks, trunks of the trees and the gorgeous monochromatic background. North Central Park Bonsai Tree 

I know a lot more than I’m telling you about the nature of things. How this strafing life chills red blood How the days push each other out of reach How the nightly terrors come too soon. Here the sharp snap of frozen twigs? Hear the frosted grasses crunching? Here the hissing logs burning with sap? Bring up the bricks from the fire, for the night is a chilly one Full of iced buckets and dying embers. Now it’s time to reminisce About the whistle and the wishes Do you recall those candied kisses We, unable to resist In the early morning mist? Young Squirrel in the Early Morning Sun 

The snows of many weeks are gone, and these new Blooming Witch-hazels are sheltering newly revealed snowdrops, covered in snow for their early days Magic Witch-Hazel Trees in Bloom in Central Park (Near 78th, middle)

I’ve a picture In my mind of an ancient room There’s a streak of red dawn through the iron window panes. I sit among the peas and string beans wanting apples. Oh for a red and yellow apple! Sweet, running with sap, running barefoot. I am not a gentle lady I am proud to say it. It could have been a morning peach amid the mourning doves. It could have been a warming bowl with cool milk and hot oats. It could have been the midday sunny harvest dust (and him). I’s green now, green with peas and roasting chickens, I have a picture though. In the attic of my mind (I'm experimenting.......)

Reservoir of Water Fowl and Ice Crossings  Central Park Reservoir in February with Ice, Birds and Grasses