Flourishing Ruffles

The snow from Tuesday's flurries melted quickly with the warmer temperatures. However, the sun remains cloaked in winter clouds

and the days have been dreary. Today, my walk around Speedway resulted in few pictures; the creek running through the Coke Field is as dark as 

cold lead, reflecting very little of the gray sky above.

Even wildlife was scarce. Birds had eaten most of the red berries

and their nests are abandoned. Milkweed was sodden.

The only flash of color came from a startled blue jay

as it burst from the brush edging the creek.

There was, however, this fungi spreading and flourishing 

out of a tree trunk in a nearby front yard. It's beauty

was surprising, reminding me of lace on a flamenco dancer's dress

as it fanned out along the base of the tree. 

Planning Dreams

One clear evening, I went to the west end of my neighborhood, 

to a place where I could stand alongside the highway 

to get a good view of the sunset. The exchanges to enter and exit

Interstate 74 from I-465 have been torn up for the past year to create wider lanes and more sweeping, easier to navigate turns. 

Some of it has been completed and drivers have been happy 

to make use of the new pavement.

Since I was a girl, I've been fascinated by the contrails left behind

by jets as they fly over the place I stand, rooted to the ground.

I especially like to see the skies in the morning and evenings, when the

contrails of many planes seem to intersect, weaving descriptions

of their journeys, just as the cars and trucks speeding past me on 

the highway were creating theirs. Early in our long relationship, 

Carl caught me watching the planes and pointed some of them out to me,

partly in jest, telling me where it was headed and its altitude. 
I understood then that, just like the trucks on the road, 
each plane had its specified lane, its place in the sky. 

He brought me outdated Jeppessen aeronautical charts, 

which I still have, describing the routes. 

I loved them then and still do. The picture below, showing 

the Indianapolis area, was scanned from an old Jeppessen 

United States Low Altitude En Route chart.

Winter Skies

Winter is a time for introspection and introversion, 

time to hibernate, to restore and renew our spirits. 

The cold can bring isolation and intimacy, both of which 

we can use to build the strength needed to face the

complications of daily life.

I need to remind myself every winter that the season

has its own colors, subdued and subtle; back to basics.

The earth lies fallow, preparing itself for rebirth

in the spring, and so do we. 

Flurries

Tuesday afternoon I looked up to find snow falling 

in big, gloppy splats. I walked over to the Coke Field to

take these pictures, slipping and sliding all the way.

Early this evening, I went to have my hair cut, 

then walked home. The slush that only a couple hours 

earlier overflowed the gutters was already gone. 

In the dark, my way had been cleared,

outlined by the snow that remained on the lawns.

Sunrise

Another morning, Boxing Day in England I guess. 

(Is that because everyone boxes up the Christmas decorations, 

packing them away for another year?)

Some people like sunsets, I prefer the sunrise, 

possibly because I feel a bit safer because

most thugs aren't early risers.

As I told someone a while back, seeing the sun rise

gets me an early start on the day, and allows 

me plenty of time to fuck it up.

Many thanks to my nephew, Joseph for his gifts of

Steve Jobs' biography by Walter Isaacson

and the CD, Wynton Marsalis and Eric Clapton

Play the Blues. It's not fucked up.

Winter Colors

After a long shopping odyssey Saturday, I didn't make it home in time 

to stop at the grocery. Christmas morning about 7:30, I walked

a couple blocks to the convenience store for a gallon of milk.

Other mornings, this place is filled with cars and people 

being fueled with gas and coffee so they can get through the day.

This morning, it seemed as though the attendant and I were the only

people in the world. It was calm, peaceful, the way

all mornings should be, not just Christmas. 

Around here, the picture above just might possibly reflect 

the true colors of winter - the purple and blue of 

windshield cleaner/antifreeze.

Happy Christmas Everyone!

The snowstorm that inundated states farther west 

did not reach us. Instead we got a steady rainfall

that ended a couple days ago.

Christmas Eve the day was bright, clear and sunny.

It is expected to continue for Christmas Day.

Stay warm, everybody. 

I hope your day with family and friends is as bright

as the sunny day we've been given.

Do You Believe ...?

After days of rain and gloom, the river has overflowed it's banks, 

leaving a depressed heron standing near the bank 

in a morass of floating river trash, his shoulders hunched 

like a rain-soaked man with no umbrella. 

Finally, the rain has moved on and the skies have begun to clear.

The clouds this afternoon were layered like the puffy lining

in quilts, multicolored, reluctant to let the sun peep through.

And "Here Come the Mummies"

for no reason other than they make me happy,

chasing away whatever gloom 

was induced by the rain.

Black

Dark as a night bereft of stars

The man in black reveals nothing,

Color showing itself only cautiously --

At times a riff of bright blue 

at the collar of his black shirt

Indicating a complication of emotions withheld, 

unexpressed.

Calmly, the man turns and walks away, 

flecks of silver running through his dark hair

like jazz, lighting up his presence --

Bip-BAP!

Bi-biddley-bap-BAP!!

Flashing stars in a flat night sky.

Morning Rush

A couple mornings ago, people were going about the business 

of getting to work in the midst of a day-long rain. I took the top picture
while I was waiting for an outbound bus to take me to my little job.
There were a lot of cars coming in to town, to take up  thousands of
parking spaces while their owners spent the next eight to ten hours
cooped up inside one of the corporate buildings a half mile
down the road. All those cars taking all those spaces,
with only their drivers inside, no passengers.

The bus that arrived to take me to a building in northwest Indy

was already full, everyone having gotten on at its origination point 

about a mile away. All of us on the bus had common goals: trying to keep 

roofs over our heads, clothes on our backs and food in our bellies, 

as well as our kids'. The young woman sitting in front of me

had three small children, of whom the baby was the youngest,

she was taking to daycare before she went to her own job;

while I begin my day with a smile, looking forward to 

being able to take a pretty picture or two, I am 

certain that this young woman just starts her day tired.  

Yay! It's the Winter Solstice!

Today is the Winter Solstice, the shortest day of the year. 

While marking the first day of winter, for me it also means that,

after today, the days will begin to lengthen.

As Earth begins her gradual tip towards the Sun,

we will begin to notice the additional daylight

by the end of January.

These pictures were taken a year ago to the day.

A couple children and their mom built this snow family

in the yard in front of their apartment.

Today, the forecast is for rain with temperatures

in the low 50's.  Out west a snowstorm as been blowing

our direction, threatening a white Christmas.

Textured Tuesday: Christmas Lights

Christmas lights in the downtown area were lit the day after Thanksgiving.

I went the following Saturday to take pictures of the tree in the Indianapolis Power & Light Company window. It is an assemblage of varied sizes 

and colors of bulbs on a wire grid, but each year it excites my love of color

as if it were the first time I'd seen it.

This evening, I went to the Starbucks on the Circle for a latte

when I saw the lights reflected in the cut glass window art. 

It was the shot I'd anticipated all along, but had not revealed itself

until after dark. Now it kind of resembles stained glass. 

As seen through cut glass. Maybe. 

Distance

Two solitary hearts, separated by their introverted natures,

each longing for the touch of the other, 

cautious as cats scurrying along the foundation,

 dark shadows in the corner of the eye,

pausing only long enough to look, to wonder

whether it is safe to accept

the love each desires.

Glitter Galaxy

Went downtown this morning to the Winter Farmers' Market

to buy some Brussels sprouts and squash. I stopped by a little stand 

called 3 Days In Paris for a crepe and a cup of coffee, 

got some Christmas cookies at Circle City Sweets, 

then walked a few blocks to take some pictures

Most of the people seemed to be downtown 

to attend an Indiana Pacers basketball 

game at Conseco Fieldhouse. While the day 

was overcast, the weather was not unpleasantly

cold, allowing people to enjoy the decorations

without feeling numbed by wind.

In a week or so, many of them will be back

to spend the gift cards thoughtfully

provided by otherwise clueless relatives.

Familiar Paths

I'm always a bit dismayed over the large expanses 

of painted white stripes I navigate almost every day.

Thousands of cars pass over them, while I regard them as

boundaries on a battlefield, marking a slim area where

I can cross the street without myself being squashed

by the cars idling ominously at the stripes' edges,

waiting for the light to change; is one of them

going to go "offside," crossing into my territory

before the light changes?

Each time I reach the other side of the street, 

I count it as a small victory against the drivers, 

on their way to work with a cell phone to their ear,

or texting a message to their salon to schedule a

Brazilian wax, or their headsets tuned to the most 

offensive hip-hop dreck hit for the week.

(Yo! I'm talkin' at you, muthafucka!)

Nobody looks where they're pointing their

metallic beasts and I rely on a set of white stripes 

to keep them away.  

Plainer Plane

An American Sycamore stands in the early morning sun,

pale and trembling from her nekkidness.

And little sparrows dine on a breakfast of berries.

Twining

These delicate stalks spent their summer climbing 

toward the sun, bending to Nature's whim,

their stems forging delicate descriptions of their twining,

showing the record of their journey in the winter light.

Delicate. Slender. Strong.

I suppose this may be the diary of the Coke Field's plants,

the barren stems, stalks and trees the sepia-toned

record of  the now-dormant field, waiting for a new chapter

to be written in the coming spring.

The cold air had me heading down to my corner

Starbucks for an eggnog latte, a treat in this

Christmas season. Ummm, happiness.

Icy Ruffles

I dream of  going to Yellowstone to see the waters swirl 

around the icy rocks, the steam from the river melting

the ice to create sculptures of the currents.

In lieu of that, I found this little bit of scalloped ice

decorating the frosty leaves like a fungus from the forest.

And here, the water moves around the rocks in the creek bed,

it's lace and ruffles undulating, emulating themselves as 

they begin their dance towards the ocean, 

thousands of miles away.

And here, Eric Clapton joins Joe Bonamassa onstage 

at Royal Albert Hall to perform "Further on Up the Road," 

the notes swirling and undulating from their guitars. 

Bonamassa is scheduled to appear at the Murat Theater

next May. Tickets are priced at approximately $150 $95.

I may as well start saving my pennies now.

Textured Tuesday: Decorations of Red

"... on a green Christmas tree,

Won't be the same, dear,

If you're not here with me."

- Elvis

For you, B-b-baby.

Sunday Morning, 7:54... Or So

I started for the Coke Field earlier this morning, at about 7:15, 

hoping to catch the brief moment when sun's rays turn the trees pink. 

I don't know that I missed it, but I was pleased to see the

lovely subtleties that did reveal themselves:

on my way to the little bridge over the creek, I looked

over my shoulder to see the moon, balancing itself 

above the trees in a lavender sky, while the ducks in the creek 

were having an early morning bath in a pool of  blue. 

After a few minutes, the sun cast it's orangeness 

onto the little woods, creating shadows of maroon and purple, with a small patch of blue in the creek, reflecting the morning sky above.

To most people, it's a drainage ditch surrounded by a few shrubs, 

while to me it's a place of small beauties.

Blue and Orange Morning

Well...I was hoping for pink trees and purple shadows when 

I got up this morning. What I got was orange trees and blue skies.

Did I leave the house too late to catch that first tinge of color

as the sun rose from behind the Speedway grandstands?

I dunno. I guess I have to try again tomorrow,

making certain I leave the house as soon after 7 a.m.

as I can manage. Whether there will be a blush

of color similar to what I saw on the trees in the park, 

I can't say until I check it out for myself.

In the meanwhile, feel the, er, warmth of the sun 

as it shines it's orange-y self on the trees.

See that kind of scum on the surface of the water?

That's a thin skin of ice.

While I'm looking forward to seeing this scene

covered in snow,  I was so glad to be coming home to

a nice breakfast and a pot of hot coffee.

A Chilling Pall

When I left the house this morning, I didn't even need my gloves. 

In the east, I saw a bright pink promise of the sun creating

an aura over downtown. It quickly faded, however,

dominated by the cold gray that took over the area. 

This picture of the Circle, though taken in March, 

gives a better idea of the pall that remained.

When I arrived at work, snow flakes had begun to swirl

and when I left this evening, all my coworkers and I wanted

was to get home to the warmth of our blankies.

No snow, just a chill wind and people huddled in the bus stop shelters.

Warm Thoughts

As cold weather sets in for the season, I find myself looking 

for reminders of warmth. Here is the brightly painted,

decorative window of BARcelona Tapas Restaurant at the corner of

Ohio and Delaware Streets. I enjoyed the way the hand-painted

letters and squiggles repeated their message in the shadows

on the walls, adding pattern to the colorful walls.  

Several years ago, this building housed a Burger King outlet 

then stood empty for an equally long span of time. 

A few years ago the bar was opened. I much prefer this 

sunny facade to the corporate presence, as it has

the air of a more friendly, neighborhood establishment.

Pigeon Feed

This morning, I went to work late because I had to take care

 of some business. Due to the overcast,  I was feeling discouraged

about the prospect of finding any interesting pictures.

Then I saw this young man feeding granola to the street fowl.

He moved slowly, purposely, to encourage the pigeons 

to take the cereal from his hand, while in the background

a flock of sparrows formed a circle just beyond the larger birds,

waiting for a small crumb to come their way. It did.

While he distracted the pigeons with a larger helping of food, 

a small scattering was tossed to the little guys.

Somewhere above, a pair of  peregrine falcons

is dining on grain-fed street chickens.  

Same Time, Different Day

I took the above shots from the same spot at about 7:50 in the morning, 

while waiting for the bus.The one above was taken last Thursday, 

the day of the "frosty roses," and the one below Tuesday morning. 

I liked the first one because of the pink in the reflections and the steam.

With the exception of the limestone building second from left, 

that looks like it's wearing a rectangular hat, most of the buildings 

were constructed in the 1980's. Fortunately, some of the older 

structures in the Mile Square downtown area were spared

and their more ornate facades provide relief from the

otherwise straight lines of their taller cousins.

Textured Tuesday: Flattened

From starry to squashed within twenty-four hours! 

Hey, life as a plant isn't all roses;

Some days you bloom, others you bust. 

"You ain't gettin' diddly squat..."

In the Gutter

Edged in icy lace, the leaves lay 

in the gutter hidden from the sun, 

one last attempt to display their beauty 

before succumbing to the winter. 

Pink Trees

I wanted to get to the Coke Field early this morning, 
to see the woods turn pink just as the sun came up. 
As I left my place, I saw clouds coming in from the west
 and knew it wouldn't be long before they would block the sunlight.

I did make it to the park, where the sun's rays briefly 

turned the now bare trees shades of pink and lavender,

with a tinge of green in their shadows.

At the Coke Field, the sun peeked through 

a slit in the clouds, just long enough to show 

the mulberry tree's matted lace profile.