Just Before the Night Comes

Early Thursday evening, as I left a meeting at the NCAA 

headquarters, I looked to the east and saw this - the sun, 

reflected by the entrance to the NCAA Hall of Champions, 

was just beginning to dip below the horizon, while 

the J.W. Marriott Hotel was doing its damnedest 

to blend into the night sky. A few yards farther on, the

walkway bridge over the Central Canal provided

a lighted path back towards the downtown.

Dormant ... or Just Cold as Hell?

On my way Wednesday to visit with a nutritionist, 

I stopped to check out a bed of dormant plants.

I don't think it's too much of a coincidence then that

the matted white stalks made me think of spaghetti.

As a reminder that winter is not all tiresome

gray, I found bits of red leaves and green moss

lurking in the dried fluff of winter.

Work in Progress

When the new Eskenazi Hospital opened last December, 

the thing that stood out was the artistic use of color 

on the main buildings' surfaces. However, that creative use 

of material did not extend to the multi-level 

parking garage, which has had a very bare-bones

appearance to it. That is, it did until this past week, when

workers began installation of a series of dark blue,

yellow, and ocher metal panels on the south side

of the building. 

Facing Michigan Street, the segments are set at

varying angles, designed to change their appearance as the

sun moves across the sky. The photos were taken

Tuesday afternoon and show the project to be about 

one half to two-thirds complete.

When done, the installation will be stunning,

especially when the sunlight gives viewers the impression 

of constant movement of the yellow wall.

Arrangements in Yellow and Black, with Some Red

There's something about the arrangement of the colors 

in these two settings that always catches my eye.

I especially like them at night. The fluorescent light affects

the yellow differently then, giving it more

snap than it has during the day.

Is there something wrong with me because 

I'm attracted to a garage door and 

an arrangement of water pipes?

It just pleases me for some odd reason to look at them 

whenever I pass by the garage entrance.

An Amber Wave of Decorative Grass

With the Daytona 500 under a red flag rain delay, 

I took the opportunity to walk to the store 

for some groceries. Quite a bit of the snow has melted,

revealing trash and muddy ground all around. 

Other than the bare trees, just about the only graceful 

thing standing is the decorative grass planted

in various spots. Here, backed by plowed mounds 

of dirty snow, the afternoon sun shown through

the fluffy plumes near the supermarket.

Downtown Saturday @ 7 A.M.

It was all love Saturday morning as I waited downtown 

for the bus that would take me to swim practice 

on the far east side of town. The sun was rising in 

a clear blue sky, the air seemed clean and fresh,

and traffic was sparse. I had a few extra minutes so

I walked over to the Circle, where the lighted trees

curved around a giant heart on the side of 

the Indianapolis Power & Light building.

Stars in the Detritus

Storms last night brought us another sunny day. 

The trees' bare branches reached upward,

towards puffy clouds scudding across a bright blue sky. 

Melting snow packs on the streets and sidewalks 

revealed the blackened leaves from fall. 

I tried to get a shot of gleaming of drops of water, 

but only got the starry points of sunlight -

one, two, three, four, dancing above the leaves.

Blue on Blue - and Blown

Amid the melting snow, the statues of nubile girls and boys 

on a fountain danced in the bright sun. 

The centerpiece of the fountain, a young woman

led the group with her cymbals, her green

figure set off perfectly against the blue sky.

Just over a day later, rain storms swept into the area,

making the bare trees dance in the night
 as the rain beat against the windows, 
adding their own rhythms to greet 
the approaching spring.

Woo Hoo! We're Thawing Out!

On a walk through a downtown park on Wednesday 

afternoon, I saw these leaves, newly, finally,

fallen on melting snow.

Icy Pterodactyl

Another storm swept through the area this evening, 

coating everything with a mixture of snow, 

sleet, and ice. The ice frozen on a neighborhood 

shrub looks like some weird version of a pterodactyl. 

Rising from the snow to soar in the winter sky,

the long-gone dinosaur might also be the mythical 

phoenix, this time reborn from winter 

to bring us spring.

Bleh

This is my cat, Taylor, grooming herself 

in the morning sun. (Bleh!) She came to me three years

ago last December, filthy, abused, and frightened.

I'd gotten my previous cats when they were kittens. 

This is the first that came to me grown,

with a history that was unknown, one that would

need to be sort of torn down to rebuild her confidence.

It was several months before she would not run 

to hide under the bed for what seemed 

like days, every time someone stomped 

their feet on the stairs in the hall.

She's not a lap cat, really, but is sitting on my lap

as I type, watching the letters for this post

appear on the screen. I think she started

this because the floors have been so cold this winter.

Generally, she will lie a few feet away, curled up 

in the window or on the floor by a bookcase.

But the winter has broken down one of

her defenses, and she is now a lap cat,

warming her toes on her human's lap. 

The Winter of Our Pissed-Offedness

As snowy and cold as it was Friday night,

Monument Circle was almost vibrant with activity. 

When I left the Circle Theatre after the ISO Valentine's Day 

concert, I saw carriages lined up to take customers on 

horse-drawn tours of the downtown area. Young people who

had been at the movies and clubs were playing

in the snow, shouting happily as they tossed snowballs.

Cars were driving around the Circle to take in the

bright lights on the snow-draped buildings and statues.

Despite the weather, the carriage drivers did not seem

to lack for business. During the time I spent waiting 

for the bus home, I think I saw this group

of carriages at least three times.

Despite all that, Hoosiers are thoroughly tired 

of the snow. As I scanned their tickets, one man told 

me that he and his wife had driven for four hours 
to come to the concert - a trip that generally 
takes about ninety minutes. A man from
Noblesville - about twenty miles away, 
called his drive "a trip from Hell."
We are eagerly anticipating the warm-up
forecast for the coming week.
  

One Slog Forward, Two Slips Back

Thursday afternoon, I walked to the store

to get a few provisions before another snowstorm

arrived. I saw these icicles hanging from a tree 

in a nearby churchyard. I didn't know

that icicles could be, of all things, windblown,

but I can't otherwise account for the 

unusual angles of this tree's icy foliage.

A fine snow has been falling steadily 

for the past four hours. Right now, it looks

to be about an additional four inches of snowfall,

on top of the snows from the past weeks.

Damn. I expect to go to hear the Indianapolis

Symphony Orchestra later Friday evening.

I'm Looking for New Words

I just want to call you Baby.

Is there any other word 
to tell you how I feel?

Name. 
I say your name and it

brings to life a million gentle dreams.

Just to speak it aloud is a betrayal 
of my feelings, so I call you Sir.

The smile in your blue eyes

is a gleaming star in a galaxy,

the only one I see in a sky deep and blue.

Like the water where I swim,

I want to sink into your embrace,

Twine, entwine you with my love

As I search for new words to call you -

Sweetie. 
Honey. 
Name.
Sir.

But I'll always just want to call you Baby.

Steamy @ 10 Degrees F

Looking south on Pennsylvania Street 

the other night, I noticed a cloud of steam 

rising just above the parked cars. 

Picking up the color of the street lights,

the steam cast an eerie yellow glow over 

the neighborhood as it pushed upward 

from the pipes below the street.

A Bit of Color

The seasons each have their own beauties, 
described by colors that provide appropriate 
views of the landscape and weather.
Safe to say, there are no bright tropical schemes
to be seen anywhere in Indiana, other than in magazines
and on billboards. The dilapidated rose hips shown
above were the most vivid accents amid the tans, grays, 
and mauves of the surrounding vegetation.

The unaccustomed amount of snowfall and 
frigid air has made people more than a little peevish
and grumpy, eager for a break in the weather.
The temperatures have improved, making it seem as 
though the worst of winter's onslaught has passed. 

It should be that way because we're now two-thirds 

of the way through the season. As the planet tips more and 

more towards the sun, people lean a little southward 
to assist with the tilt.

Stark Reality in Limestone

I looked up at the Soldiers' and Sailors' Monument 

last Saturday morning and caught a glimpse of 

the State Capitol building a couple blocks to the west.

The landmark is ever-present in the daily lives

of Indy residents, often used as a way to help others

find their way around town. "It's just off the Circle

on Market Street, about a half block east of the Monument," 

would be the easiest way to describe the location 

of the little shop where I had breakfast.

Completed in 1901, the monument was erected to 

commemorate the sacrifices made by Hoosier veterans

of the Revolutionary War, the War of 1812, 

the Mexican-American War, the Civil War, and the

Spanish-American War. 

One tends to take the presence of the figures 

for granted. The massed figures twisting and contorted

can be easily glossed over in passing, but I find them 

to be very graphic, especially during the winters.

It's then that the stark horrors of humans in combat

becomes as real to me as cold stone can depict.

I can almost hear the beating hearts of the snow-draped 

figures as they react to the screams, the weapons fire,

the pain of watching their friends die under their feet.

As a reminder of why wars are terrible, this

is not a pretty monument, easy to look at.

As an anti-war monument, it is beautiful. 

Dead Twice

On my way to swimming practice Saturday morning, 
I stopped for breakfast near the Circle. 
On my way back to the bus stop, I saw giant pots 
topped by mounds of snow that reminded me 
of white froth on top of coffee. Beneath the froth,

remains of flowers had emerged. Long dead, they 

appeared, only to die all over again

in the winter air.

Sky Feathers and Lace

Walking home from the store, I looked up to see

feathery contrails drifting in the crisp blue sky.

The barren trees provided embroidery of sorts to accent both. 

Made up from the ten-foot high mountains of snow 

piled on both sides of our streets, a shallow fjord has developed 

in the driveway near my home.

A Pool Full of Tears

Thursday night I swam just under a mile in one hour 

without the aid of fins. It surprised me. I didn't think my legs 

were strong enough to last that long. I'd started

using the fins last summer to help improve my stroke

and became dependent on them to help me keep up

the other, stronger swimmers. I know that to achieve my

goals, I need to be shed of them; I lose about

5-7 seconds per length without them and the only

solution is to, well, start over.

I did that Thursday night when I took part in the

2014 Speedo USMS One-Hour National Championship.

Entrants swim for one hour in a pool at least

25 yards or longer, then submit their recorded times

via e-mail or snail mail to determine the winner.

The event was organized locally by IAM as a fund raiser

to benefit local clubs. They wanted as close to

one hundred percent participation as possible,

otherwise I would not have entered, nor would I have

found out that, yes, I could swim without the damn fins.

Also, I came within a time range that I think will 
allow me to reach my goal for the first open water

swim I want to do later this summer.

But it was all meaningless to me because I was rude

to someone I love. I'd allowed myself to be manipulated

by a younger woman and took my hurt feelings out on him.

He did not deserve it. He's a good man who has been

nothing but kind to me. He makes me want to do well,

to work hard, and to be better than I am.

He is my muse, inspiring artwork and writing.

I was rude to him and only hurt myself in the process.

While I was swimming, I did it with a heavy heart;

even as I tried to do well, each time I breathed

I felt like crying. Walking into the cold,

cutting air afterwards was as if I'd cut out 

a piece of my own heart, with no way to heal it.

Damn.

When A Wookie Breeds With A Bluestone Crab ...

...This is what results.

Very cleverly disguised as dried thistles,

they remain hidden in fields and gardens while their

parents go about their respective businesses -

crawling up on beaches to be eaten or, more sadly,

signing autographs at Star Wars conventions.

A Little Carping

My walk Monday ended where the Central Canal 

empties into the White River. I stood for a long time,

watching a school of carp as they idled in a pool 

of sunlight at the river's bank. The fishes' slender, 

blue-gray bodies stood out against the yellow clay. 

The surface water sank to the bottom, carrying with it 

particles of soil, decomposed leaves, and other 

matter, pushing the clearer water to the top.

It's a good thing I took the opportunity to

get outside when I did because another front

bringing a heavy snowfall is working its way 

across the mid-western and eastern states.

Much of the population is suffering from an 

epidemic of seasonal affective disorder;

barely one month into the season, people are already 

thoroughly sick of the cold. You could charter

a fleet of Boeing C-130's to airlift everyone 

who wanted to go South for warmer weather.
It would be a mercy flight.

A Walk in the Winter Sun

The break in the weather gave me the opportunity 

to walk along the Central Canal, both to enjoy the sun 

and to take some pictures. At the end of the

canal, where the water enters the White River, I found

these grasses caught in a splendidly simple

arrangement on the wall, a russet leaf trapped

just so to balance the composition.

And below, at the edge of the river, a school

of carp swam in the current, fighting against it

to reach a quiet pool of water where

a meal could be had.

I could have watched those fish for hours,

their blue-gray bodies accented perfectly against 

the yellow clay mud beneath them.

Yellow Against Gold

Last fall, the ginko tree on the lawn 

of the Federal Court Building glimmered

pale yellow in the sun. 

Flashing its color against a backdrop 

of gold, the tree danced in 

the breeze, adding life to a street lined with 

corporate gray granite and limestone.

Looking for Color

The all day rain and temperatures in the forty's were

 a relief from the miserable cold of the past

few weeks, but the colors were wet and gray.

I went into the archives, such as they are, and found

this image from just a few weeks ago.

I was sitting in Starbucks when I happened to

notice the buildings reflected in a cab

parked just outside the window.

The carefully designed seams where the body

parts joined each other balanced beautifully

with the robin's egg blue and red.

Sweet.

Changes

Other than my home or the buses, the warmest place 

I spend any of my time is at the Natatorium.

I sit on a bench sketching or taking pictures of the 

swimmers as I wait for my toes to warm.

Pennants are hanging over the pools marking the 

last few feet before the walls. Reflected off the surface 

of the water, they create a sort of checkered pattern, 

reminding me of flags at the finish of the Indy 500,

appropriate to this auto racing city.  

I've been having trouble with my swimming lately, 

and don't feel I've been making much improvement.

This is probably due to losing so much practice 

time because of weather related cancellations.

Another reason is my use of small fins intended to

help improve one's kick. I decided to put them aside

the other night, something I knew I would 

have to do anyway, and lost about seven seconds

per length of the pool. Yes, the fins have been that much

of a crutch. I will need to work harder to regain 

the lost time and to get into the range where I was earlier.

It will probably help to get my weight loss

program back on schedule, as well.