Discovering Beauty in Everyday Life

I heard about it a time or two, This particular path is big taboo, But what else is a person supposed to do? The entire garden is calling for you! There are blossoms! and Sunlight! and Forks to explore! and the Birds! and the Bees! It's too much to ignore! The leaves are so green and the scents are so nice, Sometimes the answer is, Don't Think Twice.

fer·ry    /ˈferē/ Noun A boat or ship for conveying passengers and goods, esp. over a relatively short distance and as a regular service. Verb Convey in a boat, esp. across a short stretch of water. Synonyms ferryboat - raft         (Quiet, now....let's not cause disappointment.  I mean, even if the ferry is seriously late, there is always the chance of a raft...) Harlem Meer in July 2013

The steps weren’t cracked so badly then, the summer when we met. I never did say what I wanted, since I thought it would all work out. What was said there on the broken steps with the fireflies and the early dusk? It was so difficult to listen! My mind turned away I guess. I wonder, though. if it could have changed the situation. I mean if I had spoken up.

As many of us know, Weeds are not Passive Beings.  Rather, they are composed of Elemental Forces just like the rest of us.  This collection of synergistic fuzzy green beings is (surreptitiously) inching its way, centimeter by millimeter by micron, up to and through this completely inadequate fence. Who wants to be stuck behind a fence?  Rusty and charming though it may be?  Freedom!  Territory! Getting in the way of Joggers!  What else is life all about anyway? Green Weeds and a Fence (Central Park, June 2013)

Clutching after reality I make my way in the setting sun (Seeking out the unlit door, Paper bag rumpled in the corner, Old man hunching up the dirty steps.) I walk through the iron-studded door into the mythic sanctuary (Walls covered with metaphors, Banks of unlit penny candles, Stained glass.) I light the wooden stick from a nearby flickering prayer (Smell the old dust and new wax, Kneel on the seasoned wood, Listen for the echoes in the cubbyholes.) One for you, one for me, one for the middle ground

Once upon a time, in the near reaches of Central Park, there lived a very large Elf-Fairy. Confusing as elf-fairies are in general, ours has learned to answer simply to the call of El Fair the Fair One, or Elffo the Fair for short. Elffo seldom appears in person (during the day), since elf-fairies are so sensitive. For many years they were held in captivity until they escaped their original planet. Usually, they find a low-lying bush in which to dwell. Now Elffo is among the most lucky. The amazing Central Park Smoke Tree has made a place for Elffo under its inner most branches. For a few weeks each summer, Elffo can use Smoke as a Screen, and gaze out at the New York fauna at will. Only the trained eye can find Elffo the Fair! Can you find Elffo? If so leave a comment or an email and I’ll post your description of Elffo!

I crave those times I refused to notice, when I lived behind the separator, catching reflections in the transparent screen: red snowsuits glancing by in January, spring-green boots. August—limp, dry, sticky with sap. Camping in the lodgepole pines, quiet needle carpets crunching, hiking, breathing, always such a long way to go. Why am I always, always last? I am weighted down with last year’s dinners. I see a paint drip frozen dry on the yellow wall. Why notice it now, when the time to fix is over? Staring out the dusty window, Rain throwing spatters down my face. From Light to Dark on Madison Avenue