Discovering Beauty in Everyday Life

My favorite trees growing up were the 2 adjacent catalpas as we walked to school. We so often pulled off a seed pod for swords or staffs or wands or other rods our imaginations were requiring. Do you remember them? Now I have a huge catalpa tree in my front yard. Daddy and I planted it together when it was a spindly 7' tall and about 3" in diameter. I think of him every time I see my beloved tree. But mine is a female Western Catalpa, so it blooms a magnificent clump of delightfully sweet-smelling, pale orchid-like blossoms that shroud the tree for about 10 days. It is magnificent. Cut the blossoms and bring them inside and they barely last at all; they are meant to adorn the tree for the few short days in summer. About two summers ago there were 3 unknown children in my yard harvesting swords. They seemed a bit skittish. In memory (and defiance) of our childhood churlish neighborhood adult, I went outside and told them they were welcome to have as many as they liked, an

What I love about trees is that we all have one or two particular ones that belong to us. Yet this information often lies hidden near the soul. Our mission today is to find the nearest Likely Human Candidate.  Approach your Candidate with a pencil and a clipboard, although a notebook will do.  Holding the pencil at the ready, inquire: "Excuse me, I was wondering.  What was your favorite tree growing up?" (Now we need to wait for an answer.  This is the hard part, but do not skimp.) . One- one thousand, Two- one thousand  Carefully scribble down the answer, and thank your Likely Candidate.   You might need to offer a word of encouragement. Be prepared to improvise, since your Candidate may wish to carry on. Congratulations ,    we have just shared a precious splash of childhood.

Lots of people think of Bill when they hear Gates, but not me.  Remember the orangy-yellow dancing  gates, stiching their way  through Central Park?  They froliced in the February snow and wind and then hung quietly, waiting for a puff.  We could see a breeze march its way down the Harlem Hill, past the reservour and the dormant gardens, through the rambles and over the lawns.  We could feel the weather passing by,  lifting a spirit, almost like a summer rain.  Central Park, furled And then, The Gates, Christo and Jeanne-Claude, February 2005.

Here we have an ordinary tree, perhaps a little narrow here and there, relaxing near a fence.  Yet, we look a little closer and notice the truly horrifying bumps.  What could they be?  What  purpose do they perform?  Is it simply an ugly tree, and might we plant a newer, prettier one?   Well, we'll wait a little while and see...

I almost missed it, pre-occupied as I was. . Nothing fast enough for me! Right, left, scratch and skid. Damn snow. Who's in charge, and where's the salt? I have some thoughts to mull about and very little time. Move over! I hunkered at the corner curb to watch my step, and in that pause, I paid attention.  And look what I got for my money.

While on a recent wander in the local museum, I observed these two great ladies held captive by an unseen entity in the upper  middle distance. 

I have wet mittens, but it is so worth it! Initials on Car hood & windshield