Discovering Beauty in Everyday Life

The substance on which these duck fowl are travelling is as yet unidentified.  It is clearly thick and viscous, else it would not bunch up as though it were a heavy silky satin (or warm tar, as the dictionary tackily puts it). The substance is deeply pigmented, and some have suggested it is actually a blue form of  heavy  rubbery cream.  It appears to support vegetation.   The duck fowl seem unharmed, even happy.  Other researchers have suggested that the surface substance itself is edible.  The  duck fowl also appear to be suspended on the surface itself rather than to be floating within it. The surface is also reflective of fauna while remaining optically neutral to flora.

There is no denying it; This colorful morning is a harbinger of an elegant and playful summer!

Edward Kemeys in 1883

You may not believe this (I didn't), but the roof curators at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, who do not give up easily, have come up with the following pigeon plan.  Erect a huge mirror.  Confuse Monster Pigeon (and Mate).  How?   Here is the story as told by a reliable anonymous source.  Mirrors confuse large vampires.  Vampires drink blood. Therefore, mirrors confuse large pigeons. Ok? Moreover, if there exists a large mirror whose only purpose is to deflect and confuse vampires, then there is a vampire living in the nest next door.  Q.E.D.  The matter is Quasi-Experimentally Determined.  It's practically scientifically proven ( "quod erat demonstrandum").   Right?  

Oh look!  There's a nice rest haven in the midst of things.  Just it for a late afternoon.  But wait.  Why are those people carrying an umbrella?  Is not the sun shining? And what does that sign say? It's very dim.  Does it say a Dairy?  What?  Here?  No way.  There is not a solitary cow.  And a Gift Shop?  But,        w ho's afraid of the big bad wolf, the big bad w...       What?  Did you say something?      so early in the morning.   Ha, Ha.  It's just the rain.  But, the sun,         and who is nibbling at my house, house, house?  Is it a mouse, mou....   Wait a minute! What time is it?    the big bad wolf.....nibbling at my house, house, house..     It's after seven!  It should be dark!    But it's such a nice house,  mouse, mouse , mouse at my house , house, house ,     Run!

I entered the resting park to capture the twilight reservoir. Beauty unleashed (check).  Buildings, inconceivably reflected (yes, got it). Buried fountain, recycling the reservoir ( Check)!    There it is,  just to left of the mirrored towers, reflected and transparent. Oh than you Central Park Conservancy, for once more digging out this beautiful fountain from its icy winter sleep.  

Gloaming is such a soft and soothing word. "In the gloaming oh my darling, when the lights are soft and low, and the quiet shadows falling, softly come and softly go..." Well, not in New York City! Our gloams rock! See the blaze of passion sweep the trees? Are they alight? Oh, yes! Radiant with obsession, haunted by coal-hot desire to consume the spaces in between. What hope is there for any squirrel or wren, who lingers on a limb sticky with molten sap? So if you come across a trace of morning ash, remember that liquid evening sun. Lyrics by Jonatharr Brooke