Missed It. Dammit.

All month, I'd been stalking my neighbors' front yard, 

eager to see what they might install as 

their Halloween yard decor.

All month I was disappointed because no magic

transformations had appeared. 

Well, a new deck had been added to the back 

of the house, so I figured their attentions

had been applied there instead.

Wrong!

This morning I left to walk to the store to find 

that this scene had been created.

I wish I could have seen it last night, 

lit in all its macabre glory.

In addition to the skeleton driving the old car,

there is a skeleton cat on the window, 

a giant-ass spider perched on the corner of the porch, 

and, just possibly, a yucky effigy of our

state's narrow-minded governor being squished 

under the car. Bwa-ha-ha-hah!

On the other side of the front yard, they had parked 

one of their cars. Since it is just the right

shade of "Exorcist" green, it fit the theme.

I wondered what role it played Halloween night

and was sorry I missed whatever

drama it had been assigned. 

Art in Speedway: Mark Rothko

I knew when the landscape workers planted the roadside 

last year, that that area along Crawfordsville Road 

would provide interesting colors for pictures.

Last week, while waiting to cross the highway there,

I looked up to see the flowers, grasses, and trees

had grown to provide long bands of color

resembling Mark Rothko paintings.

Rothko (1903-1970) was an Abstract Expressionist whose color field 

paintings employ subtle changes in transparency and 

opacity, light and dark to draw the viewer into his works.

Rothko wanted people to experience his paintings in this way,

in order that they have some emotional involvement

in his work, rather than just view them as surface

decoration then walk away.

Hundreds of people drive by this roadside garden 

each day without noticing the luminosity 

of the leaves, the subtle changes in value

of the bands of color that separate them from the

banal architecture just beyond.

A Mark Rothko painting.

Textured Tuesday: Precursor?

When leaves fall onto the pavement. I find myself fascinated by 

the imprints they leave when the rain blows them away.

Sometimes the mark is the silhouette they made as the rain fell

around them, while others gather the sediment the water

washes along the pavement, leaving muddy little prints.

It's almost a precursor to the time, a bunch of eons away, when 

someone finds a broken rock, revealing the image

of a fossilized leaf inside. 

Glowing Hearts

Redbuds fascinate me. In the spring they cover themselves 

in fuzzy sweaters made up of tiny pink florets.

In the fall, they produce curly black seed pods that are

backed by heart-shaped yellow leaves.

Here the sun shines through the leaves, 

creating a golden, heart-shaped glow 

that shines like a thousand bits of love, 

there for anyone who cares to see.

The Colors Where I Live

After a chilly, rainy week, Saturday dawned bright and clear.

The crisp air accented hues of autumn colors usually associated

 with places where other people live.

365 Days Apart

I thought I was finished with my book, but I wasn't.

 I'd replaced a number of my pictures because the originals 

weren't of sufficient quality and re-wrote the captions to match. 

I've been expecting a payment that would allow me 

to pay for the remaining pictures. It hasn't arrived. 

In the meantime, contracts have been rewritten to change 

the invoices so we can get our pictures. It's not hard, 

but it is a pain in the ass. I want to be out taking pictures. 

The top picture was taken November 10, 2010, while 

the second was taken November 10 of last year.

Nekkid

What I enjoy most about this picture is the bright blue 

edging around the leaf, created by the sky's 

reflection in the water.

I went out today, camera in my pocket, as usual,

but the day was gray all around, leaves

matted into brown carpets on the sidewalks.

The poor trees, tall as ever in the park,

looked as though they were huddled together,

their limbs shivering in the chilly breeze

from their nekkidness.

Yellow and Black

It rained nearly all day yesterday, bringing a chill wind 

to blow the leaves down. This yellow tree looked bright and 

impressive against the dark overcast. Its tiny leaves

were strewn on the wet, black granite benches surrounding

this pyramid fountain. 

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.

Tree Poodle

There's supposed to be a reason for it, one I don't quite understand, but each year some of the trees in the neighborhood get a trim job. Their limbs are cut back, leaving only little poufs at the ends. While I enjoy the way the limbs divide the sky, with splashes of sunlit leaves for accent,

I prefer to stand amid these curtains of color,

 where the sun enters between the leaves, 

creating shadows of themselves, on themselves.

Blue Skies and Space Junk

 Holy Flyin' Cosmos!

The sky is a nice blue, the sunlight is bouncing off little puffy clouds, 

a gentle breeze is leading the leaves on the trees in a slow dance. 

After a blistering summer the temperature is finally tolerable.

Uhhh ... Whut? 

You say a satellite is burning on re-entry into the atmosphere and is expected to break into twenty-six pieces as it crashes in all its conflagrated glory somewhere upon this precious Earth? As big as a bus, you say? 

Is that, like, one of those big customized rock star cruisers, 

a city bus or the infamous short bus?

Shall I put Cat and Turtle in their crates and go sit in the park for a while? 

What do you mean you don't know and can't tell me

when and where it's gonna land?

A communications satellite has gone incommunicado?

Can you tell me what it looks like? NO?! Beautiful.

The last time I saw "space junk" of any note it was hanging 

off a middle-aged man who delighted in doing the "moon walk" 

as he danced naked across our living room floor. 

Which brings to mind another concern: wardrobe. 

A giant flaming charcoal briquette may come crashing into

my bedroom some time during the next twelve hours 

and I gotta have the right outfit. What should a grown woman wear 

if she's anticipating a re-entry?

I won't light any candles; given the circumstances they'd be redundant.

Hey, NASA, just tell UARS to bring a nice bottle of wine.

I'll make breakfast.