Sunday, June 30, 2013


This is Harley, a member of the Weimaraner breed, 
one of the most beautiful dogs ever.
He is sitting at the door of his family's home, 
watching the action in the neighborhood.
I always look for him when I walk past
the house because I never tire of watching
his springy stride as he follows his humans around
their yard or trots over to greet me.
His taut body covered by shiny coat
is aptly described by the phrase "gray ghost,"
words that are emphasized when he stands in
the doorway, his form contrasting sharply
with the background.

Saturday, June 29, 2013

A Gray Blanket

When the day started. I looked out my window 
to see beautiful sunlit clouds passing over,
with warm temperatures to match the season. 
A bit later, an underlying blanket of gray 
came in, hiding the sun and the cumulus clouds. 
They didn't bring much rain, however, 
just a shower of fat, sloppy raindrops that made 
big bubbles in the puddles for faeries to ride in.

Now, as the evening brings cooler temperatures,
the trees are dancing a dervish with the wind,
pushing out the warmth, bringing rainfall
heavier and more insistent than earlier.

This time last year, we had been under drought 
conditions since April. For now, I will enjoy the shower
and look forward to any storm.

Friday, June 28, 2013

Mossy River

I stood and stared at this driveway for a bit 
before I took these pictures, wondering whether 
the sealant would show appropriately 
black and shiny. It didn't, so I fiddled with it 
in PhotoShop, making it purple.

Still, the whole thing reminds me of maps 
of a river and it's tributaries,
but reversed, with the green bits being the land, 
and the rest, of course, water.

Thursday, June 27, 2013

Pretty Blue

A Speedway neighbor set this little bit on a small 
wooden table in their front yard.
Though plain and small, I found something
charming about the gesture
and, most of all, I just loved the blue glass.

Wednesday, June 26, 2013


One nice day during the Spring, 
I took a walk along the Central Canal, 
where I saw this vine, growing up along a trellis 
sheltering a bench by the walkway.
I was struck by the contrast of young and old, 
new buds and old growth,
each providing support for the other.

Here a trunk of  an old vine
resembles sisal rope, stretching and twining
from the ground, in and out of the trellis.
Does it provide a pathway for the newer vines,
to grow along the grooves in its surface,
showing them the way towards the sun?

Tuesday, June 25, 2013

Textured Tuesday: Green and Gray

It had rained overnight, but the only remaining 
hint was the damp outline around 
this fallen leaf. I loved the green shades against 
the striated concrete sidewalk.

Monday, June 24, 2013

Waltz with the Breezes

When I left to take a walk Saturday, 
the air was hot and muggy,
relieved by the gift of a breeze. 
As the afternoon went on, the promise 
of rain plied its way among the trees 
at the IMS RV lot on Georgetown Road. 
I could hear the trees as they danced, 
their leaves sounding like the rustle of taffeta
ball gowns moving to the sensuous twirls and dips 
of the breeze's three-quarter time.

A bit of the breeze touched my cheek, 
inviting me to join the dance.
And there, I could be seen, a middle-aged woman 
walking alone among a few acres worth of trees. 
With my baseball hat pulled low on my brow,
I looked up at the trees where, circling in place,
partnered by my unseen Muse, my laughter made 
a counter melody to the summer air.

Sunday, June 23, 2013


I could stand beneath a tree all day, 
gazing upward at the leaves to check way the light 
is diffused as it makes its way from the sun
through the layers and shapes that overlap and
intersect each other on its way to the ground below.

Above, a tiny leaf makes a heart in the chest 
of one of its larger brethren, anthropomorphizing
a species that makes life on Earth possible
for the oxygen breathing species among us.

Saturday, June 22, 2013

Men at Work ... in Holes

This hole held technical equipment used by AT&T. 
The man administering the hole told me 
I'd missed the alligator that they'd removed earlier. 
I believed him about as much as he believed my story
that I was in charge of seeing that all hole
work was competently and completely done.

A few feet away, a pair of men was working to place a steel cover 
on an operational hole for another of the city's utilities.

Friday, June 21, 2013

Verticals, Horizontals, and Something Different

After lunch on Wednesday, I walked down Meridian Street 
towards the Circle. A long tunnel of scaffolding 
has been constructed outside one of the AT&T buildings 
to protect pedestrians as they walk 
beneath the workmen. As always, I was impressed by 
the lines and shadows created by the scaffolding 
and its shadows. The horizontal stripes of the woman's
jacket just added to the jumpy visual effect.

The same for the swirls in the dress of 
the woman in the above picture.
As for the "something different,"
every time I see one of these trucks I wonder
why some men need to make such
 a production of their love-making that
it becomes a project, fer crissakes.
Peeny engineering, indeed.

Thursday, June 20, 2013


I took a picture of this alleyway a few days ago because 
I liked all the patterns made by various grids.
In the end, I found myself intrigued by the little bit
of graffiti in the lower left corner.
At first, I thought it was a sprayed stencil image
of a French Bulldog. Further research
proved it to be the tagger's version of the most
popular internet cat meme, Grumpy Cat.

GC, whose real name is Tardar Sauce, was just recently 
signed to a movie deal. If a script can be developed that is
as clever as the comments made for the photos,
then that movie may be one animal pic I can stand for
more than 5 minutes.

At any rate, GC's expression matches what I feel when 
I see my favorite man being followed around by
a half-his-age mid-life crisis in four-inch heels.
I wake up every day with a positive attitude, thinking
that if I do my part, if I work hard, my dreams will come true.
However, I fail to take into account that other people 
may have similar plans; believe me, brains and humor will
be trumped by a thigh-high min-skirt every time.

Wednesday, June 19, 2013

Beautiful Misery

The past few summers have been dry.
Not this year, because every living thing has 
received a fair allotment of rain.
Everything is its appropriate green,
rose, pink or yellow color.
And everything exists in abundance.
Which goes a long way to explaining why
I acquired a miserable, lingering summer cold
complete with fever, aches, and annoying coughing 
spells that are exhausting.

These pictures show two of the 
suspects. I dearly love them and enjoy
their presence far more than
anything offered by fall and winter.
But thy, oh, why, did they and
their floral brethren decide to target me?
I love them!

Tuesday, June 18, 2013

Right Where He Belongs

Solemnly smoking a cigarette and checking 
his text messages, this man was relegated 
to the proper area for these activities - out in the alley
by the trash bins.

Monday, June 17, 2013

A City of the Future

Last Sunday, I took a walk through part of "old" Speedway, 
to search fro some of the original garages that were built 
when the town was started on July 14, 1926.

The track was first opened in 1909 and the first Indy 500
was held in 1911. One of the track's founders, Carl Fisher,
envisioned the Town of Speedway as the nation's
"first horseless city," with paved streets, brick paved alleyways
that provided access to garages that were built
adjacent to each of the new homes.

As far as I can tell, many of the little garages survive 
in various stages of repair. Most of them have 
been sided over, with nearly all having their original
hung doors replaced with overhead doors.

A few still had their original doors, but could also stand
some attention and restoration. The one below
at least had an overhead door made to resemble
the hung doors originally specified by the designer.

This one had been encased in vinyl siding that has been 
allowed to loosen and split from the corner, 
where I could see the dry, gray original wood.

Oh, yeah, when this "city of the future" was laid out, 
sidewalks were not a part of the plans. While steps have 
been taken to rectify this matter, especially in 
recent years, there are still sections of the town
where pedestrians must either stumble along an uneven
curb, or risk being hit by speeding cars.
Even then, plans were afoot, so to speak, 
to make us so entirely dependent on our cars 
we could not safely walk to meet our neighbors. 
Thus, the "Lard Ass Nation" was conceived.

Sunday, June 16, 2013

Summer Work

The weather has finally broken, allowing us to lean towards summer, 
leaving behind the chilly temperatures that plagued us 
through most of the spring.
No surer sign of spring exists than to see various
home improvement projects being started on the neighborhood
homes. At morning, trailers hitched behind pick-up trucks
can be seen leaving apartment complexes all around town. 
Traveling crews come into the area, performing work 
contracted earlier by various contractors.

I remember going to Des Moines one summer 
with Carl, who was having new roofs 
put on a couple of his properties.
The crew that came in was largely Hispanic, 
with a tall, lean man who seemed 
to be their foreman. They parked their trailer 
under a shade tree and went to work, neatly
and efficiently removing the old roof, 
that was tossed into the trailer.
Just as tidily the new roof was installed,
the men and women cleaned up after themselves,
then went on to the next contract, the next town
on their itinerary. Imagine my surprise when,
the following summer, I saw the same tall,
lean man supervising a crew as they 
installed a new roof on a nearby 
apartment building.

Saturday, June 15, 2013


The day seemed bright and brand new when I took these pictures. 
A week on, fighting a sinus infection, I feel like crap,
unable to enjoy the beauty I've been given. 
I will go and huddle in my bed, watch TV, read, and possibly 
write to my muse, to let him know I think he's a dick.

We have hawks and falcons all over town.
I spied this one, perched on a telephone wire
looking for mice. He didn't have long to enjoy 
whatever reveries hawks might entertain,
though, because a squadron of sparrows flew in
to torment and drive him from his perch.
I last saw him flying towards the protection of
a tree, with six of the little birds in pursuit,
chattering and scolding him all the way.
To see our downtown falcons, maybe,
as four babies have fledged,
follow this link.

Friday, June 14, 2013

A Day of Rest ... Maybe

Last Sunday morning, as I walked along 
the neighborhood streets of Speedway, 
I encountered a lot of people going about the 
business of  work, painting, installing new siding, mowing
 their lawns and washing their cars.
This man, along with his cute pet dog,
was accompanying his wife on her jog around
the streets. Unfortunately, my little
camera was too slow to catch her as well.

Thursday, June 13, 2013

Mirror Image

While downtown on Saturday, I saw this young man 
and his father waiting for their car.
I couldn't help but notice their similar, 
fidgity postures and mannerisms.

Wednesday, June 12, 2013

It's A Miracle!

A little after 8 PM this evening, drivers approaching 
Lynhurst Drive in Speedway would have seen 
this price for gasoline.
Praise be to OPEC!
However, drivers approaching the station from 
the opposite direction saw this sign instead.

No word on what the price would have been
had someone wanted to indulge his
"irregular" self.

Tuesday, June 11, 2013

Speedway Street Art: The Moon in the Pavement

When I saw the circles in the parking lot, it was 
as if I'd seen the moon at my feet.
Crews were adding a new seal coat to a nearby
parking lot, with sections marked off as they
progressed across the expanse of asphalt. 

It looked as though the moon was being balanced in 
the night sky by strategically placed strokes
of sumi-e, creating what appeared to be minimalist
ink paintings in the middle of a strip mall.

Monday, June 10, 2013

For My Muse: Swimming

Two or three times a week, I go to the IUPUI Natatorium after work to swim.
I enter the building, passing vents emitting warm air
smelling of chlorine, a smell from a familiar past, of a dormant skill.
In the locker room, I share space with younger women and girls,
all of whom take their bodies and strengths for granted.
I undress/dress then enter the pool area, where I stand at the edge
of the pool, divided by colored markers into eight long lanes.
Sleek, seal-like people are swimming laps, marking
their progress with long, lazy strokes.

I drop into the pool, where I am enveloped in the cool,
blue water, suspended briefly between realities
of past, future, and now, until the water pushes me upward
to breathe again and to take my place among the others;
I check the clock then join the other seal heads
to begin my own journey.

ONE-two-three-four, FIVE-six-seven-eight!
I find a cadence, stretching and pulling with each stroke.
Water passes over and around me, yet creates a wall
I must push through to get to what I want.
KICK-kick-kick! PULL-pull-pull!
And I do until my body burns and old injuries are searing
from flashbacks to their origins. My body swims
beneath banners hung from the ceiling, images of champions -
Gary Hall, Janet Evans, Micheal Phelps, and Dara Torres - 
whose brilliant smiles belie the tortuous work 
required to reach their goals.

Up and down, back and forth I go,
remembering to remember to keep my body straight,
a blueberry trying to become an arrow in the water,
doing the thing I fear to work towards my goal; 
tired of being invisible, I work to shed my gray cocoon.
As I climb the ladder, music plays in the background,
Ray Charles' "You Don't Know Me," and I leave to
dry my wings in the late afternoon sun.

Sunday, June 9, 2013

In a Tangle

Thrown into the bed of a pick-up truck, a string of perfectly 
good ideas lies tangled, thrown aside 
in favor more prosaic imagery.