Loose Ends

Returning home from swim practice 

at Butler University, the bus 

passes this neighborhood variety store 

on North Illinois Street.

For whatever reason, I really 

enjoy the artwork painted on the

storefront windows.

In an era when the days of 

homemade, hand-drawn signage

is long-gone, it's a pleasure

to see that someone has gone to

the effort to create such a personal array

of images to showcase their wares.

The Eagle and the Sparrow

While waiting for a bus home late Wednesday 

afternoon, a flock of sparrows flew to my feet. 

Cold and hungry, they didn't startle easily, 

but waited in anticipation of any crumbs that might

fall from my hand to their anxious beaks.

Unfortunately, I didn't have anything to offer them.

Another commuter approached,

startling the flock into flight, up onto the base

of a light stanchion just behind me.

While most of them huddled at the feet of cast iron 

eagles, one of them perched on the head

of one of the fierce-looking raptors,

making it look as though it was wearing

a big fluffy hat.

Selfie

These girls were fooling around with their i-phones 

Wednesday afternoon, trying their new 

selfie-stick. Of course, mugging for the camera 

was required, but this serves as a reminder 

to check the backgrounds of all your images 

before posting them on-line.

Robins and Berries

We got several inches of snow in Indy 

this past weekend. Monday afternoon, while waiting 

for the bus, I looked up in a nearby tree 

where I saw robins. They seemed almost tame, 

but I guess it was the berries and, perhaps, a mating thing, 

that kept them in the tree while I prowled underneath, 

looking for a decent shot.

Autumn, Tangled

In the tall grasses, autumn was caught 

among the leaves, a bit of contrast

tangled in the green.

And, a few feet away, the grasses

had been swirled and matted.

Had this site been the overnight bed

for a deer, or a for couple companionable 

city dogs, safely hidden from 

passing cars just a few feet away?

Fireworks Without the Sparkle

The lighting on the trees outside Eskenazi Health 

made their spiky twigs stand out like bursts

of gold and red fireworks against the night sky.

On the Road

Just before the sun went down a few nights ago, 

I went to pick up some milk from a nearby 

convenience store. Drivers were gassing up their cars, 

possibly preparing for the next day's commute 

on I-465, the road just behind the store.

With A Cup of Coffee, A Bic Pen, and A Notebook the World Is Mine

Most workday mornings, I like to stop in at

 the Paradise Bakery for a hot chai latte.

Between buses, I sit at a table for a few minutes

to watch the downtown area come alive

for another day of business, working towards

a dream, or like most of us, just keeping 

food on the table and bills paid.

I am not alone in this endeavor; there is a 

woman at another corner table sipping her

coffee, writing in a notebook.

Is that a novel she's working on? A journal,

perhaps? For sure, it's not an ordinary

entry because she's making it in longhand,

not typing the info into her laptop, 

nor is she texting. It seems deeper, more

personal somehow. At this time of the morning,

when the sun's rays are just beginning

to edge around the downtown office buildings,

writing in a notebook, with a cup of coffee

at hand seems just about the right

thing to occupy one's time.

"Squirrel!"

A couple days ago, I told a friend that I'd spent 

the afternoon going through nearly 2,400 e-mails 

and downloaded about 350 images 

from my camera, all amassed 

during the time my computer was down.

The volume of e-mail didn't faze him, but he wondered

what I took pictures of, that I could have so many.

"Oh, flowers, buildings, just about anything

that catches my eye," I responded.

"Flowers? What flowers? There's been no spring!"

he said. I just laughed. All of us have felt the drag

of what seemed like an interminable winter.

It's been a real relief these past couple weeks

to finally see buds and bits of color emerge

from our somber surroundings.

I stood on the corner last Saturday, waiting for

the bus that would take me to my swimming session,

when I looked up to see these pink buds.

I was looking for something, anything, and found

these right above my head.

Then, of course, something else caught

my attention "Squirrel!" and I was 

off on another little mission. :-)

Textured Tuesday: Sucker Punched by the Sun

Every morning I go to work, I wait for the bus at the corner 

of Capitol and Ohio Streets. And every morning

I look eastward to see whether my bus is approaching.

The architecture along Ohio Street is not enthralling, just the

usual arrangement of row upon row of windows and granite,

but what happens to those windows when the sun 

is reflected from their surfaces just about knocks me down.

Some days the light is orange, on others it is pink, and yet

others a golden yellow. The light creates a series of plaid

patterns, woven multi-hued rays of golden light

that entertain me until I board my bus 

and continue on to work.

Sunshine on a Cloudy Day

Actually, I enjoy days like these from time to time. 

They provide a change from the relentless sun, such as what we had last year.

These treetops greeted the morning with their backsides pressed against

the western clouds and incoming rain, while a bit of sun

sneaked through a crack in the overcast.

The sunlight just barely had time to illuminate the leaves

before we were inundated with a morning shower.

Flying

I see you and I can barely keep my feet upon the ground.

I want so much to fly, to turn and twist,

To soar and dip in the sunlit sky like a pink kite,

Fluttering, darting, my ribbon streamers trailing a dancing path

Until, at last, I descend, running a few light steps upon the ground,

Once again anonymous, unseen by you,

Oblivious to my joy.

Portrait of the Bus Driver

On my way to work yesterday morning, 

while our bus was stopped in traffic, I happened to notice 

the bus driver's face reflected in her rear view mirror.

So here it is, an on the job portrait of the bus

driver in her milieu, driving a bus full

of people to their jobs. 

He's In the Hole!

I got to the bus stop this morning just before the bus was due. 

 As I looked up the street, I caught a bit of movement

out the corner of my eye. I turned towards the tree to see 

a young squirrel moving in and out the of its

nest in the tree. It checked its environment, sniffed the

surroundings, darting in and out of the opening several times

before going about its daily business elsewhere on

the tree and in the park.

Textured Tuesday: Circles in Dimension

The circles moved in and out, acquiring dimension,

becoming hexagons. 

They hypnotized me. They spoke to me.

 They form the sides of a trash can.

A Head for Beauty

Eunice spends her days traveling back and forth 

between work and home in a hot pink tote.

She serves mutely, with no thought given 

to her personal tastes and desires, as her mistress

learns the basics of hair styling.

She begins her career with a full head of hair then,

as the course progresses, her hair is cut, braided, partitioned

with foil for coloring, and cut again until, her career

complete, her brunette tresses have disppeared. 

Eunice will become bald, sacrificed to beauty.

Irony, Oxymoron, and WTF?

I looked up this morning from my reading, 

to see this young woman 

on her way to work, a dress shoe on one foot 

and a surgical boot on the other.

While the heel is not ridiculously high,

I still wonder about the need to wear it while

the other foot is recovering from an injury.

UPDATE:  A friend, who had to wear this style
of surgical boot for nine months, told me that the girl is probably
wearing the one shoe from her closet that most closely matches
the height of the boot. My friend had to find this out on her
own; after suffering from hip and back pain because
of unaligned heel heights, she took it upon herself to wear
a shoe that matched that of the boot. Problem solved.

Working

As the bus approaches the stop where I am waiting, 

I contemplate the work for today - not the job where I am expected,

but the outline and shape for my next book. 

What do I want to say? What will be it's purpose?

How can I tell my story so that other people, who

may know nothing about the topic, will be affected by the 

people I want to present to them?

I go to this little part-time job to help cover expenses

and to keep myself socialized; it would be so easy to become

isolated and turn into the neighborhood cat lady.

On the way into town,one rider boards in tears - 

she has lost her hat and the little

pocketbook in which she carries her bus tickets.

Profoundly deaf, she communicates by sign language

and grunts, tears streaming down her face

as she attempts to make her difficulty known to us,

the hearing world.  When I left the bus, I felt inadequate;
all I could offer was a pat on her shoulder and a smile as I left,
my sad attempt to communicate to her that it will all work out.

My little concerns are nothing.
I can see. I can hear.
I spend my time trying to find ways to make interesting pictures 
and to string words together in way that people will want to
read them. I am among the fortunate who can, to a degree, extend
that ability a bit further than usual practice. 
I do not yet have the misfortune to struggle to find 
ways to make myself understood without words,
either vocally or in writing.

End of Day

Headed west on 10th Street at the White River Bridge, 

we had our way lighted by the bright orange sun, 

as it briefly sat poised on the horizon, then dipped below the tree line.

I had begun my day with the sun turning the eastern sky

mauve, then pink, then orange as it lit our path, 

then guided me towards home in the evening.

Speedway, 7 A.M.

The recent change in local bus schedules means that I have to take 

a different bus to work. No longer can I, in effect, just step outside my front door 

to get the bus downtown. The new bus stop is about a half mile away,

which is not a problem. In fact, it gives me the opportunity to see another 

part of my neighborhood when it is beginning to wake up for work.

I was standing at the corner of  the park when I took this picture.

Just as the sun was rising above the roof lines, a car was approaching,

and a neighbor had turned on their porch light to get the newspaper.

A late winter storm is moving through central Indiana, 

leaving behind an icy glaze of freezing rain, sleet, and snow. 

I expect to see a sparkly world tomorrow morning.