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.

Tramp, tramp, trample and trump.  Fiddle feet, fiddle foot, fiddle fast.  oomPAH oomPAH oomPAH oomPAH OOMpah OOMpah PAH. pahOOMP  pahOOMP payOOM PAH PAH oompiPAH  oompiPAH oompiPAY Is it here, is it there?  Why it’s every which way. Here it is, there it is. Where? There! What is it? What is it? What is it he asks? A puzzle, a riddle, a task to unmask? No one knows what it is,but its fun while it lasts!

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. Harvest time near Xian, 1983

Evening puddles join together for an open air early spring picnic.  No ants, no mosquitoes, no tourists, no pigeons.  Bryant Park, 42nd and 6th Avenue

Now I have space for today and cannot capture it,  Yet I ache from the beauty of it Cluttered clouds, cool and edgy Trees dancing with sap Leaves waiting for their turn   Tingling with the colors of spring

Warning!  Warning!  Suicide Puddle Ahead! by Staff puddle finder At approximately 4:22 this afternoon we received a report that a possible Suicide Puddle had been cited near the bridle path underpass directly down from the South Reservoir Pump Station.  Upon investigation it was determined that the requisite Suicide Puddle elements had indeed conflued.  Not only was this puddle Suicidistic but it was also a Seducing Puddle, designed to lure admirers into it's sphere.  A warning cone was placed to mark the spot for pedestrians and moving vehicles such as autos.    Only moments later our Staff Puddle Finder found a woman at the puddle's edge, captivated.  Armed personnel were called, and a rescue was executed.  The woman's identity is obscured using advanced photo technology.     Seductive Suicide Puddle

First example installment of the Puddles and Poetry Series (uhm, without the poetry)   The Classic Mudpuddle on a Running Track is designed for maximum splash with minimal avoidance clearance.  This photo is exceptional, since the muddy puddle-silt has settled to reveal the puddle's inner cloud.  Cloud puddles are rarely so beautiful.    Reservoir Running Track Mudpuddle with Clouds and Fence

I’ll go you one better! He said, and tossed in a day of his own. I saw why he raised me; the day was a snappy one, up early, hit the roaring playing fields, happy after dinner treats. I’ll call, said I, and threw in one of my best. A cool morning, sun barely up, afternoon with needles crunching in the dry mountains, evening honeysuckles I’ve two races won, sweet aftershave and a golden trophy ring, said He. I guess I’m losing this one then, I said. I’ve a room of my own with candle wax and soft shadows in the moonlight.  April, 2008

Woman Picasso Appreciator prepares to hang a measured print in a newly painted room

It's Spring at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, all in old soft marble and hardy spring cherry blossoms.  Spring Blossoms ~~ ca. 2011   Lion Cub ~~ Predynastic, Naqada III–Dynasty 1--ca. 3300–2900 B.C.

February 27, 2011||Special to the Los Angeles Times By SUSAN SALTER REYNOLDS "Her absence is the greatest presence in my life," writes Ed Breslin of the dog who saved him from so many of his demons. In April 1994, Breslin brought Miss Dutchie, a lab puppy, home as a present for his wife, Lynn. The love that this larger-than-life Irishman had (and has) for the dog he and his wife lived and played with for 12 1/2 years transformed him. Not only did Miss Dutchie's distaste for cigarette smoke help him quit, but her flair for fun chased away an old and lumbering darkness in his soul — perhaps the result of being one of 12 children and not getting enough affection, perhaps the result of a career in the collapsing world of publishing. It was a darkness that 34 years of therapy could not dispel. But from the moment Breslin turned his considerable tenderness on this little wailing puppy, life was different. Breslin writes with an elegant simplicity, still raw from Miss Dutchie&

Jane Portrait 062 Sometimes the best thing to do is sit on a stone wall and hold on Sparrow on a Peaked Stone Wall 

 Suspended Animation:  New Spiderman tryouts in Time Square Rex  Long  at Time Square 

Evening Practicing in Blue, East Side Central Park Sunset, Central Park

I was at the vanishing point when I met you No more space between the rails no more hiding among the driftwood ties I’d gone too far, I’d paid the pipers far too much I’ve been at the crossroads hat in hand and left without a trace. I felt the dry mouth of shriveled yesterdays Can you tell the shoreline from the shore? Can you feel the cut cracks in the sidewalk? Can you taste the iron in the bloody aftermath? And there you were offering a temporary stay I held my hand out opened I let my heart eat the insubstantial nectar, yes! I clamor back like a ravished cactus Covered at last with night blossoms Living inch by borrowed inch Witch Hazel, South of the Metropolitan Museum of Art

The Water Fountain is on, the mittens are off, and spring is in the afternoon air! Playground in from 96th and Fifth 

Many of you mudpuddle trackers have been concerned, as have I, that certain parties may succeed in their efforts to relocate our most dedicated reflecting mudpuddles .  I use the word relocate, because we know that mudpuddles are spiritual and immortal and cannot be ( ssshhhhhh -- eradicated ...).  They may be forced underground and out of sight, but their soul does not perish.  This puddle has lived here since the late 1800s. Thankfully this  vigorous mudpuddle remains a lusty beacon for oncoming spring. North West Reservoir Bridle Path, March 211

It's happening!  The fuse is lit, and Blushing Tree is tipped with fire. Blushing Tree at 96th and Fifth Avenue, March 3

In Class

Come towards me faster!  Faster Now!  I can't stay inside this Greying winter frame another month. There is no waiting, don't you see?  My twigs already rage with sap My roots are swelling, growing How can I pull  the rich air into my hollow bones? I crave the smells I need the watered air  I yearn for green and apple pink! Come now come closer now I ache for spring I long to grow I need to grow into a new dimension  I am full with life and bursting! Where are my buds?  What shall I do with all this magic life? Magic Tree from the North Reservoir Path, Almost-Spring 2011  

Animal Tree is a fine example of the well-known genus Spirit Host .  Spirit Hosts are available to spirits for a quick nap or a magic legerde-arbre escape from travails.  Animal Tree looked quite normal on approach, but as the camera began to focus in, the hammy spirits decided to jump in and materialize as best they could.  Alas, at this time of year everyone wants to be a star.   Animal Spirit Tree North of 96th Street