Textured Tuesday: Ivy and Lichen

After leaving Old City Hall last week, I stopped outside 

to take pictures of the trees, one of which had ivy

growing up its trunk. I looked a bit more closely and found

new leaves growing at the tip of the vine,

strong and elegant at the same time.

Further down, some of the ivy was brown, 

having died away either from the effects of the cold

weather or maybe even the de-icers 

used on the sidewalks and streets. The tree

was itself bare, dormant for the winter while 

the ivy illustrated the cycles of life within

  a two-foot span on its trunk.

Nowhere to Go But ...

The stairway to success is a long, arduous climb,

but a fall from grace is precipitous, so beware of the 

pitfalls that may lay behind unfamiliar doors.

The smoking lounge at the back of the office

had a secret entrance; those who found 

the way out never returned.

Super Traffic

Just outside the mile square area, the main shopping 

and activity areas of downtown Indianapolis, 

one can find all day parking for the comparatively

 modest fee of $4.00, while the same sum 

will only get you three hours at one 

of the parking garages closer in.

Traffic in the downtown area was congested 

earlier this week, primarily due to detours 

for construction activities for the Super Bowl

venues south of Washington Street between

Capitol and Pennsylvania Streets.

The crowds last night and today at Super Bowl Village

were happy and congenial. People of all ages

came down to participate in the activities

and to see the sights.

Back at the Old City Hall

After a long period hiding behind clouds, the sun finally came 

out this afternoon, bringing more people into downtown

for the official opening of the Super Bowl activities. There was

also a steady stream of visitors to see the TURF exhibition,

twenty-three art installations by Indiana artists, all of them

interesting and well-done.

The people in the above photo were, like just about everyone

who's visited, impressed with the building which is

 playing host for the occasion. They are attempting to take

pictures of the stained glass that tops the rotunda of

the old City Hall's lobby, shown below.

The building, designed by the architectural firm, Rubush & Hunter, 

was completed in 1910 and consolidated all the city services

in one location. It's classical facade is of Indiana limestone

 with the entire structure meant to symbolize the stability 

and achievements of the city. 

Many of the visitors had visited the building before, 

during at least one of the building's earlier incarnations, 

when it was still the City Hall, then the home 

of the Indiana State Museum until 2002, 

and most recently, the temporary home of the 

Marion County Library during its remodeling and 

expansion from 2004 to 2007. 

Leanin' Trees

It's the middle of winter, the days are gray and misty.

but at least the temperatures are fairly mild.

Activities surrounding the city's presentation of the 

46th Annual NFL Super Bowl are gathering momentum.

This afternoon, I took part in my first stint as

volunteer for TURF, an exhibition organized by the

Indianapolis Downtown Art Dealers Association

of installations by twenty-three artists.

The exhibition is presented in the Old City Hall, 

the beauty of which is obvious even though

it is suffering from disuse. The artwork is 

excellent, as well.

Though the day was damp and gray, I did see these beautiful trees.

Bending and leaning towards the light, they always provide

graceful accents to surroundings that often seem

mundane or dreary.

Downtown Scenes

Late afternoon downtown, while the sun is 

creating long blue shadows on the buildings,

a UPS delivery man drives away from the 

Federal Court House, and a young man checks

his messages while waiting for a bus.

Night: Waiting for the Bus

When I am downtown during the evening, I catch the bus outside

the Birch E. Bayh Federal Courthouse located on Ohio Street

between Pennsylvania and Meridian Streets. The security lighting

highlights the statues and the details at the front of the building.

The courthouse seems like a gray block during the day, but is

actually beautiful as the photo above shows. Moreover, its interior

is marvelous - full of colored marble, carved limestone, 

mosaic tile, filigreed brass and stained glass. 

My City of Slush and Mud

A few days ago, we had a bit of snow on the ground 

which rapidly turned to slush and mud. We've been especially

anxious about the weather here because we'll be hosting 

the Super Bowl in Indianapolis on Sunday, February 5th.

It rained last night, leaving the ground cold and muddy.

Tonight,  over five hundred other people and myself 

took part in our first rehearsal for the half time show.

I could tell you all about it except, as the saying goes,

I'd have to kill you afterwards.

It's going to be cool. I promise. Just watch.

As I told someone earlier tonight, if I were offered an 

all expenses paid trip to Disney World, I'd have

to turn it down for lack of interest --  unless that trip 

was to visit behind the scenes to see how it works.

That's how I feel about this show. 

How's it made? How does it work? I wanna see!

Brick Yard

These bricks lay in a nearby yard, under a grouping of shrubs. 

Don't know why, but they've been there for years. It seems

they were laid with intent but without design.

This morning the snow gave the bricks a dimension 

beyond their merely occupying space - this angle 

reminded me of a cityscape at night, 

perhaps even during foggy or snowy weather.

EXTRA: Aliens in Speedway!

 At 6PM I looked outside my window
 to see an alien spacecraft just above

the treeline. For the past several days, the 

temperatures have been in the mid-teens, we've had

a bit of snow on top of ice. Today the weather's

been warmer, the snow softening to melt

into slush. The air has not seemed so much like

fog as it has a cold cloud, overhanging the city.

 While the mist and fog are so thick

as to conceal the stanchion

supporting the lights, that does not mean

that aliens are not expected soon in Indy:

the evil New England Patriots have just 
defeated the Baltimore Ravens in 
a close game, 23-20, to establish 
one half of the Super Bowl match-up, 
to be held here on Sunday, February 5th.

Dubuffet in Speedway

I pass by this drive nearly every time I go for a walk. 

One morning I happened to notice the painted lines sealing 

the cracks in the pavement. They reminded me

of  some paintings I'd seen. "Dubuffet," 

I thought, then walked on, irritated because 

my camera's batteries had died.

I went back at a later date then, when I looked up

Jean Dubuffet on-line was surprised to find 

that the artist was, indeed, the one whose paintings

these marks in the drive resembled. Whew! 

Contrasts

The buildings in the Downtown Indianapolis area 

are a mixture of starkly sleek granite and glass

with the restored fillips of older, more ornate buildings.

Like many cities in the U.S. Indy has suffered through

years of neglect and abandonment, as her people

fled the downtown area for the promise of the 

cement block offices on the outskirts.

Thankfully, that attitude has enjoyed a remarkable shift

as people returned to the city with intents to rebuild,

restore and refurbish many of the beautiful

structures that remain.

Sadly, these houses lie within two miles of the

office buildings shown in the top photo. They speak to a struggle

endured by many of the people who walk every day in

the shadows of the downtown. In the aftermath of 

the mortgage and bank fraud debacles, the people who've lost 

their homes and jobs are the ones who suffer,

while those in the boardrooms write checks,

buy votes and influence legislation that destroys 

the foundation of the nation.

At a time when we need to adapt our educational 

system to the new technology, make good healthcare

available to everyone, feed our children and keep

roofs over their heads, those systems are falling apart

under a systematic cacophony of political posturing

designed to destroy them without replacing 

them with something viable, something better.

Every person in every one of those modest homes

needs to be certain they have a picture ID, are registered to vote,

and shows up at the polls to take America back from

the corporations who've stolen it.

More Ice ...

... And not just from my last trip to the Coke Field. 

The forecast for tonight is for more snow flurries with

ice and snow Friday night. I'd like to take pictures 

in the snowy field at sunrise, with the sun's light reflected 

by the trees. That means I'll probably have to wait

until Sunday as we may have some sun by then.

There's even the possibility that neighborhood trees will 

turn into ice sculptures, their sparkle seducing us into believing

the icy roads are merely the shiny floors of fairy palaces.

For now, though, I guess I'll just have to be happy 

with the brilliance of the sun's light as it's reflected through

and by the ice on the creek.

Wiry Build

Carter ate so little that his friends joked 

the sun shown through him.

He hated winters, saying he felt as though 

the cold air blew right into his bread basket

and sent him hurtling across the lot.

Pretty Seedy

I love to see echinacea in the summer, 

when the bees are after the flowers' pollen, 

then later, when goldfinches can be seen 

dining on the seeds. Now, their hosting 

job complete, the stalks have blackened and 

stand out against the snowy ground. 

Tall and slender, they seem just as proud

as they looked in their summer dress.

Textured Tuesday: Icy Lace

The other day I walked over to the Coke Field to see

what effect the flowing water might have had on the ice

in the creek, that is, if any ice had formed. 

To date, the winter has been iffy, warmer days alternating with 

aggravatingly cold ones, but that has prevented people 

having to suffer through a long period of 

bone-chilling misery. So far.

There was ice, but a lot of it had melted, the water

having played with the edges, creating beautiful

undulating borders on what remained.

The pictures above and below are different 

views of the same bit of ice. Not only do I love

the uneven scallops on the edges, I like the colors;

though muddy, they seem brilliant and crisp.

A couple days ago, probably the day I took these pictures,

I was kvetching about the lack of pretty, womanly clothes 

for a woman in my age bracket. 

You'd never have known that was anything

I cared about if you'd seen me, leaning over the bridge 

to take my pictures. I was wearing jeans, a lined plaid flannel

 barn jacket, a pink fleece hat and matching gloves. 

In winter, warm trumps girly every time.

Thoughts on Commuting

The work day over, I step out into the rain,

joined by others to splash down the drive to meet our bus.

We crowd into its spare warmth where

the smells of fifty or so other damp people

curl and settle in the surrounding air.

I turn inward, gazing out the window

where the raindrops meld into rivulets,

their paths turning the evening light into

Jackson Pollock paintings.

As raucous chatter builds around me

I turn to thoughts of my unwitting muse,

a man who inspires tender pleasures

known only to myself, unshared.

Standing in the middle of the room,

full of people, the muse remains a shadow,

mystery formed from wisps of secrets --

Is he as kind as he is funny and smart?

I recall the outline of his shoulders beneath his shirt

and wonder if his skin is smooth.

Does he have much hair or a little gut?

Sometimes I can feel the heat from his body,

Its warmth luring me in to his smell, inviting

exploration, touch, a banquet of seductions.

As the recorded voice on the bus

calls out street names and stops,

"Golden. Hill. Court. Stop requested."

I hear the muse's calm voice

speaking of poetry, of Fresnel lenses

in lighthouses and Eskimo dogs -

He talks of art and makes me a pornographer.

Again, the bus's voice speaks, the doors open

and we re-enter the rainy night.

Beneath my pink umbrella, 

I smile to myself as I join the silvery mist

and continue home.

Calling His Friends

A few days ago (and it seems like a century) the weather was cold, 

but the sky was clear and sunny. I went out for a walk and 

a cafe mocha, reveling in the sunlight. I saw this crow, 

calling his friends to tell them ... something. I dunno.

Maybe he knew of a nearby field that could be gleaned 

for seeds, or he saw a trash tip behind a restaurant

that could be raided for the discarded fries.

A few feet farther on, this abandoned nest is isolated, 

its inhabitant having flown away to a warmer place

in search of food. Obviously, the berries were not to her

taste, but they will provide nice meals for different birds

 later in winter, when other food is harder to find.

Frosty to Frozen

It's pretty.

It's stark.

It's cold.

My cat is curled against the chilly air,

her tail wrapped over her nose like a shawl.

I've turned inward, imagining spring

and counting the days until the flowers reappear.

This poor pansy, among the more hardy of flowers,

has sacrificed its life to bring a little sun

into a frozen garden.

There are days "global warming"

doesn't seem like such a bad thing.

Snowy Walk

The weather forecasters have warned us. We know. 

Based on past experience we know that our winter won't begin 

until a cold breeze passes through to pick up information

it can take back to its cohorts back in Siberia --

"Hey, Indy has some big plans to lay on a 

giant party. Let's go mess with 'em." 

Those big plans generally involve our high school

basketball tournaments, a state-wide happening that

climaxes each year in Indianapolis with the best four

teams meeting to decide the year's champion.

Some years it's the NCAA tournament in March.

This year it's the Super Bowl and, just as 

the city is beginning to set up the tents and exhibits,

the temperatures have dropped thirty degrees

and given us this brush of snow to practice with.

I walked over to the store around noon for some groceries, 

and took these pictures on the way. I like the play of positive and

negative space between the leaves and snowy ground in the

first picture, but wish I'd thought to pick out the dried oak leaf

before I took the picture of the sprig of ivy growing

at the base of the tree, as it interferes with the arc of the vine.

When I returned an hour later, the ivy had already 

succumbed to the weight of the snow. 

Pretty Clothes

Okay, I like pretty clothes and these are cheap knock-offs 

of some slutty looking styles. But the outfits were well thought out, 

with interesting combinations of patterns and beautiful colors.

These clothes are meant for young women, rather than 

women with careers and families, but even they have more 

options than do "women of a certain age."

Why do designers consign mature women to the back rooms

of their creative efforts? It seems I mostly have a choice between

tailored business clothes, those goddamned multi-patterned

"warm-up suits" with braid and metallic trim or,

worse yet, what look like men's bowling shirts 

in a floral print or some kind of applique stuck on

in the name of "designer sportswear."

I am not looking to dress like some over-the-hill tart

who doesn't want to admit her age, but I do

very much want womanly clothes that are more

attractive and sensual than seems to be available

to women of my means. If I were wealthy, I wouldn't have this

concern because I could go to my favorite designer to

have beautiful dresses made to suit my needs. 
But I'm not and I don't.  

I like silk. I like lace and sometimes I even like 

plaid flannel barn jackets. But I'd really like to find

garments that help me express an adult femininity 

rather than consigning me to a perpetual heap 

of gray-hued pantsuits.