Discovering Beauty in Everyday Life

I see the time worn chairs of seated yesterdays:  Overstuffed and spilling springs, smelling of pipe-smoke and dinner. Morning aftershave with  pancakes, brown with syrup, wet with butter. A long walk with the trash to the alley with the lilac bushes. Lilacs! Oh the smell of lilacs! That was the day that nothing happened.  That was the day that was born at seven with scrambled eggs at noon; The day we mowed the lawn and pulled an early dandelion;  The day we saw the garden snake, and the sidewalk stayed warm from the sun;  The day with creamed peas and a bedtime story. That was the best of days.  

PlanterMan from Headquarters arrives to teach Recovering Urban Volunteer about the ins and outs of appropriate Tree-Bed Management PlanterMan Christian Fletcher assists Recovering Urban Volunteer

I love my new camera from Nikon But the thumb wheel’s so tight you can’t turn it on! I love the resolution and the pixel distribution But I must have a thumb I can count upon. I’m packing her up now with sorrow. We go back to J&R tomorrow. I know when we're done She'll find someone with Thumb I’m so grateful I had her to borrow!

We know about the three faces of Buddha, the three faces of Lord Shiva, the three faces of Eve & the Holy Trinity.  Seldom, however, are we allowed photographic access to the THREE FACES OF PARK AVENUE 1192 Park Avenue & 94th Street

Rain, rain, 90% chance; that’s a big chance to take without an anchor or a raft, That meager chance that hooks its grapples into your soul and drags you under. No rubber innertubes, no swimming for the shallow ropes, no wishing you were here. A death grip holding to those stringy dreams, those butchered hopes. I fought, hanging on with nail and tooth, bloody, My feet tearing heel ruts in the silty muddy bottom-feeding swamp. Obsessed while the hook bit into my throat, Tearing out my soul through shredded remnants, Wasting, wanting, wiping off the dirty brackish water, Playing it big. A slicing blow, and I was cut loose  Nothing A tugless war I, self constructed, half made up, left tattered on a fertile field, Tinged with elixir and pink, Soaked with the waiting sun, Tasting of honeysuckles.

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.