Discovering Beauty in Everyday Life

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

"The exhibition, called "Infinite Variety," features a potion of the massive quilt collection of Joanna S. Rose and is presented by the American Folk Art Museum . Most were made by ordinary women between 1850 and 1950. The tradition of the red-and-white color scheme, however, goes father back. In the 1750s, Turkish red dye arrived in Europe. It became popular due to its colorfastness. Most other dyes at the time would fade or run when exposed to light and water."   -excerpt from the brochure . "Infinity Variety" @ Park Avenue Armory, 643 Park Avenue between 67th and 68th streets Guest photo  by Edith Davis (poor reproduction courtesy of the blogger!)

It’s close to spring; I see it in my window box. The early morning sun creeps north, thawing at the columbine roots. We do not give life up easily. Some say Eros was the son of Iris by the West Wind. A wanton child he was, torching hearts at random with his burning golden arrows.  Some say it was the gold that did it. I came across a small pool residing in a sidewalk  (Temporarily, of course) A few fall leaves still shelter there, Wet and warm with burnished gold.

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.

The Sandhill Cranes have returned to Monte Vista National Wildlife Refuge. They speak to each other, murmuring gently of the flight path they have taken for millions of years, the Way. Monte Vista National Wildlife Refuge, Southern Colorado ©Larry Calloway Crestone Conglomerate   Photos ©Larry Calloway Crestone Conglomerate

Lovely Willow leans far over the lake edge to watch her spring leaves growing.