Discovering Beauty in Everyday Life

Hello Linda Jo I will share my experience on creating or growing a house, as you requested from your friends. First of course, you must accept the fact that I'm a friend and that the request includes me. I built my first house when I was 13 with the help of my then best friend, Ludwig (Luddy). It was in the in the midst of a deeply wooded area, but actually about 40 yards from my parents's house (just in case). The sides were made from orange crate slats - or maybe Apple crates. I don't remember. The roof was cardboard, procured from the local grocery. We told the owner we needed them because our parents were moving. It was merely a white lie because it was The Great Depression and our parents moved often. But the roof was not water proof and was rather mushy after the first drizzle. To us, it was the precursor of Hurricane Sandy. But we were determined and sneaked into a junk yard and found some corrugated tin. It was not considered stealing since i

I’m dizzy and ditzy as a bee can be. Yet to be a bee is not for me, I am simply too busy to be a bee, IN fACT….I would like to know where all those behive engineers and botanists are! Where are the gardeners, the tree surgeons, the cultivators and the rose grafters?  It is time to unite behind the latest and greatest sustainable home design in the history of –well, the World.--  WE ARE GOING TO GROW A HOUSE . Why put up with all those joints and connections and what nots? Why not just manufacture a couple of seeds with a few house chromosomes? You know, a few plumbing stem cells, an electronic segment, a brick and mortar constructor? Sheet rock? What is a house but a few organs and an inner and outer skin? Of course, there’s some insulation for fat, a couple of entrances and egresses to manage maintenance, processing and waste. We just need a nice drainage system and some plumbing for circulation to carry the oxygenated water around. Can you experts not design a speci

 Around the corner there is a library full of centuries of words hanging onto the shelves. Winter encyclopedias, dark maroon, almost leather, indexed and waiting, full of photographs. Color photos carefully selected, positioned just exactly on the page, heart and soul of a thing. Maps, Charts, Physics in a nutshell, Rome in a fraction of an inch. Me in my blue coat feeling like a leftover good-will bargain table, crumpled up and left for last. Watch your posture, young lady.  The lady says she likes the hat I choose from the second hand bin. Maybe it will have time for a second coming.  I do not select a book right off, it is a sacred act all right. Maybe just a small one, maybe I can taste little bit sunny spring  carrying a spirit  into my upper chest--After all, they say the sap is just below the surface, sticky with life, rich, waiting-- A book! bound with dewy decimals holding its place. The light is on now in this magic space. Oiled wood, piles of golden incandes

Small Boulder on Way to Final Resting Place Emerging from the Tombs of Darkness (Please tell me the Architect did not just say "Oops! I forgot the drains") Cellar Stairs, Backyard

Darkness recedes as we begin the final cellar clearing. Oh what fun to run your fingers through the cool, loose granules! Rich and loamy, untouched for 115 years! Cellar Incense

If, while rooting through the unconscious cellar of your soul, In order to expand your conscious awareness, And to relieve your self of the burdens of your childhood (for example), And if you happen to come across a very, very big obstacle, well, Some things are better off buried, so just dig down another few feet. Jan with a shovel attempts to remove one ton boulders from just beneath the cellar surface Brownstone Cellar Excavation -- Tons of Boulders! Brooklyn Bedford Stuyvesant Cellar revision near the Olde Coal Shoot

Did you ever wonder what lay beneath your unfinished basement? I'll tell you, because I know. Rocks. Lots of Huge Rocks. Dirt. Lots and lots of dirt. Coal dust from early 1900s. Lots and lots of coal dust. Other Old Things. Lots of other old things. Remember that song? "How many lips have ki-issed you.....I wonder, I wonder, I wonder.....but I really don't want to know. No, I really don't. Monroe Street Basement-to-Be