Newly Planted

During my walk to the grocery Saturday morning, 

I noticed that an assortment of flowers, grasses, trees and shrubs

have been planted alongside the newly configured and

repaved Crawfordsville Road. The plants have a natural look

and, once grown, will serve to hide the ugly fast-food

buildings, as well as provide a buffer for traffic noise.

The plants are also getting their

 own irrigation system.

Fall Crystals

I particularly enjoy the mornings when I get out 

to find that the dew hasn't yet baked off the flowers.

These were taken along the Central Canal.

Standpipes Wrapped by Cristo

Well ... not really, but I couldn't resist.

The building was being remodeled and the

plasterers covered the pipes so they

wouldn't get covered in plaster and paint.

Gray Days

I've been trying to locate a photo for my book. 

I found it, now I need to get permission to use it.

I waited all day to get a return call to speak

with the person who has access to the photo, the one

who can release it. I stayed in because it was gray

and rainy, but I should have gone for a walk, to check

the creek, to see if there are any herons hiding

in the weeds and wildflowers

Today was flat gray from morning to night, with not 

even a bit of golden sun to liven the atmosphere.

Showers are expected tomorrow. Unless it's

just pouring, I don't plan on waiting for the phone call

because I need to get out of the house.

Dark to Light

The day started off gloomy, 

but the sun came out later 

to add even more brilliance 

to the geraniums' hot pink display.

Later that afternoon, a cold wind 

swept through, pulling limbs 

from the trees, with a hail storm 

so heavy the ground looked as 

though the season's first 

snowfall had occurred.

Now, the temperatures have 

returned to the 70s, but the trees

are beginning to change color,

and the geraniums' petals

were beaten to the ground.

Textured Tuesday: Circle in a Square

I have got to go back to this intersection, 

where the street painters carefully laid down 

a straight-sided notch around the water company's 

access cover. What is this place, where

 the painters are taught to make only straight 

back-and-forth motions with their rollers, and do not 

fill in around the edges of the steel cover?

Moonrise

I made this picture several years ago. 

Some friends were getting ready to go to a Christmas party 

(it was the middle of November) and asked me to

take their picture before they left.

 After they had gone, I returned to the boat 

where I saw the moon rising in the east, pink and

lavender clouds in the sky and reflected in the river's

surface. Of course, I had to make a painting of the scene.

The usual intention is to cover the entire canvas 

with color, but when I got this far, I figured I'd told

my story: There they were - the moon, the clouds, 

the reflections, the white boats against the

dark green shadows.

I loved that place, that time.

From the Coffee Shop

Wednesday afternoon, I was sitting in a coffee shop on the Circle, 

watching as people finally were able to go around town 

without looking as though they were in a broiler.

I was nibbling on a snickerdoodle, waiting for my latte

to cool, contemplating what my next writing project might be.

I've got a good idea, but it will be involved.

I'd never written a book before and the one I just finished

would be a chapter in length compared to what 

I have in mind; I was surprised at how much work and

commitment it required and now I wanna do the

research and prepare a larger one.

Uh-oh.

Last Day of Summer

Friday, the last full day of summer, began prettily enough, 

casting its rays on this Speedway patio, then was banished by 

a cold front that brought chilly winds, torrential rain,

and enough hail that it looked like 3 inches of

snow stacked outside my back door.

Autumn Equinox

I like ornamental grasses. During the spring and summer 

they create a nice, natural fence. On rainy days

the rain hangs like baubles from the slender leaves. 

Now that the summer has ended, the grasses 

curl in sinuous spirals, like long hair 

gone all frizzy with the humidity.

Big Damn Leaf

I am so fucked up.

I remember the first time Carl told me that.

I was describing something I saw that was 

kinda off the wall, when he got this

funny smile on his face, his head kinda

cocked to the side as he listened to my tale --

"Chief, you are so fucked up."

I responded, of course, with a look of

my own, puzzled dismay.

"No, no," he said, "I don't mean you're *fucked up,* I mean 

that you just see that differently than I ever would have."

Oh, okay, I thought and moved on. I just don't think I'm at 

all unusual. On the creativity scale, I'm about a 6; 

there are so many other people who see and 

make such beautiful things, I'll envy them forever.

And so, there I was this afternoon, standing under the big leaves

of the plants on Monument Circle, looking at the way

the sun shone through the leaves, the way they overlapped

and made neat shapes, just a fucked up old lady

with a camera, who's buried herself in the leaves.

For the Want of a Nail ...

Harry's memorial cross became a paint stirrer.

And who knows how many

garage sales, lost kitties, wandering dogs,

homes for sale, missing people,

wedding showers, birthday parties,

manicure salons, and lemonade stands

have been promoted over the years?

For these, only the nails remain.

Textured Tuesday: Speedway Street Maintenance Artists ... at It Again

These pictures were taken within a few feet of each other, 

where the street department workers were cutting out the asphalt

at the street corners to install new curbing and slanted

walkways. The spot of color above looks like the center of

the flame that burned all summer, but it makes the black

sealant look all the more rich.

Here the new asphalt contrasts with the older bit of road, 

while cut marks from the concrete saw offset the older cracks

in the pavement surface. The rust accents in the cut

lines relieve the gray with welcome color.

And I'm typing comments about the street workers' efforts 

as though they knew what they were doing. Humph.

Actually, this work has been going on all over Speedway for 

the past couple years. The town is making a real effort 

to improve itself; knocking down derelict buildings

and erecting new businesses along Main Street,

the streets have been trenched, then repaved, for new 

sewage lines all over town. This began in about 2009 and,

while the redevelopment was long planned, the sewage

and sidewalk construction seem particularly intense,

as though the town had received a gift from above.

Ol' Pollen Butt and Late Summer Orange

It's about one week to the beginning of Autumn.

The temperatures are beginning to cool and,

even as the weather is finally reasonable, 

the plants that remain are on their own schedule,

one that seems written in their DNA.

They'll give us one last burst of color,

then fade and wither in compliance

to Nature's plan.

Bees and Buckeyes

I see these pink flowers planted everywhere from 

front yards to highway medians.

I don't know what they are, but I love the delicate

florets, grouped in bunches so the bees and butterflies* 
may stand on them more easily.

And their coloration, while not bright, excites

my eyes with their fragile transitions 

from light to deeper pink and their compliment,

 a really sweet pale green.

*Corrected copy due to information received
from blogger who knows butterflies from moths.
I wasn't sure what it was, but thank you to 
Shantaram, who did.

Pale Pink and Gray

I was struck by the delicacy of the pink flowers 

contrasted with the rough gray of the tree.

And the lone bee harvesting the pollen

on the late summer day.

Cloudy Reflection

When I stood on the little bridge at the Coke Field, 

I saw this cloud admiring its reflection 

in the creek. It was a bright sunny day, made

even more surprising by the contrast between the

clouds and sky and the ground below. 

A Not Too Hot Sunny Day

After enduring a summer of drought, 

last week we finally got the cooler temperatures 

and rain we so badly needed. 

Flowers that had not bloomed, 

or that had bloomed and died from the heat, 

seemed to have blossomed again, in time 

for one riotous burst of color before fall.

A Place in the Park

On a sunny day, when the park was full of kids 

on the playground, and the grown-ups 

were at the Farmers' Market, this couple was able 

to find a quiet moment for themselves.

The Happy Gnome

Not to be outdone by a mere cloud (see here), 

this garden gnome will be happy 

to show you his large, purple friend.

My only concern is why the little fella 

hasn't fainted because of all 

the blood rushing from his head.

Oh, yeah, he's plaster. Doh!

See "truth in media"
disclaimer shown above,
or I'd be relegated to the tabloid 
category in no time.

Textured Tuesday: Franz Kline in Speedway

Er, downtown near Christ Church Cathedral, actually.

It cracks me up. I'm walking along, minding my own business, 

when I catch sight of something out the corner of my eye.

This time it was the sidewalk. As a repair job,

it's pretty crappy, but as texture, color, shapes and line

it's pretty interesting. 

Hey, all you cee-mint

repairmen and cutters out there, whatever it is

you're drinking or eating, don't stop.

Painting, 1952. Franz Kline. Oil on Canvas.

I Could Not Resist Their Lure

This pair of standpipes are attached to the outside of 

an attorneys' office on East Market Street.

Polished and gleaming, yet pitted and oxidized with

their red end-caps setting off their shine,

they await a duty it is hoped they never need

to perform.

Just underneath, there is a third outlet,

a common garden-variety spigot 

that receives more use, 

cleaning the sidewalk 

and watering the plants.

No polish, no chrome has ever

seen its humble exterior.

Art vs. Art

Saturday morning, I went downtown to participate in 

"Art vs. Art", a competition in which paintings are pitted

in a winner-take-all format. The winning artist will receive

$4 thousand, and the losing paintings will be ground

to dust if buyers can't be found who are willing 

to pay a minimum $50 for each painting.

The vast majority of the competitors looked young 

enough to be my children. A few even brought children

of their own. The young woman next to me brought 
her young daughter, who sat patiently 

playing video games on her mom's cell phone.

The painting "arena," was the mezzanine 

of the City Market. The entrants were dispersed 

all over the area,which had been draped 
in plastic for the occasion.  

Artists were only allowed to use materials supplied 
by the organizer:an 18" x 24" canvas panel; 

four paintbrushes of varying sizes; five colors of 

acrylic paint - red, yellow, blue, black, and white.

Once each canvas was numbered and signed in, artists had

four hours in which to create their masterpieces.

 I worked quietly, trying to be good because

all the plastic made me feel as though I was working on

a class project. When I turned in the results of my efforts,

I had a bit of separation anxiety, not knowing whether

"Too Many Suns: SPF 50" will find a new home, 

or be ground into dust.

Night Thunder

This evening, we finally got one of those summer storms , 

the kind that break up the season to make the heat tolerable. 

We've had so little rain I had to go back to March 

to find pictures to illustrate the weather.

When I looked outside, I saw raindrops making 

little bits of watery shrapnel as they hit the sidewalk,'

and long, streaming rivulets pouring down 

the sides of cars. 

As the thunder rolled through Speedway,

and the lightning crackled, my shy and nervous

cat came to lie beside me, even noticing 

the flickering of the lights and TV screen

when the power went out. Her big, green eyes

may as well have had question marks for

pupils as she tried to understand 

why the noise outside made the change 

to her little indoor world.

I could almost see little sparks flash

between her ears as the synapses fired,

a little kitty intellectual storm raging within,

as she contemplated the event.

A Colorful Confusion ...

Finally, we got rain. The grass has quickly turned green, 

and the reservoirs are filling up. It's less than

three weeks to the end of summer and we're finally

getting the balmy evenings we generally

associate with the season.

But some of the plants are a bit confused.

This little tree has fruit for the birds, its leaves

are anticipating the fall a few weeks from now,

as well as trying to bloom as if it's spring.

All the colors look beautiful, though,

in their colorful confusion.  

Touching Base ... Not

Not far from where families were enjoying 

their picnics and playing ball, 

this man lay stretched on

a picnic table, a tube of Pringles and 

an "athletic drink" beside him.

It made me wonder about the nature

of being a solitary soul, with no one to 

whom one is responsible, no one who expects

to hear from you at some point during the

day, or within the week.

No one to miss you.

Every day or so, I check in with

my sister, and she with me.

I have friends I call on a pretty consistent 

schedule, "Is everything OK?"

"How are you?"

The little girl in yesterday's pictures

was learning to "touch base" while playing

with her family. Later on, it will extend

to relationships with other people.

The man above, by himself in the park, 

with no family or friends around,

made me wonder whether there is 

someone to whom he is responsible.

Who wonders where he is,

whether he is OK,

with whom he touches base.

He-e-ey, Batta-Batta-Batta!

On Sunday, our bit of Isaac had blown through, 

bringing much-needed rain and cooler temperatures.

It was the Labor Day weekend and families had 

taken advantage of the cooler temperatures to enjoy

a relaxing time in the park.

The park's shelter was full of people having 

a picnic gathering, while a group of young men 

were using one of the soccer fields 

for a game of flag football.

The baseball diamond was being used by a family 

to play a little softball game. I wished I had a different

lens because the group, made up of parents and 

three girls, was teaching the youngest

to play the game. She picked up the ball, she tagged

her sister out, and she threw the ball ... sort of.

When her turn came, her big sister took 

her by the hand to run the bases. 

And Dad taught her the chant,

designed to annoy generations of 

batters ... 

He-e-y, batta-batta-batta!