Last of the Golden Hearts

Cold wind and rain blew through, remnants of "Superstorm Sandy," 

taking the last of the golden leaves from neighborhood redbud trees.

I'm already anticipating the Winter Solstice, December 21st,

after which the days again begin lengthening.

Black-Red-Orange

I'd seen them on the highway, reels of plastic tubing on a trailer 

being taken to a work site. The trailer carrying these reels 

was parked at the corner, about a quarter mile from here. Yay! 

A crew of three men was digging a hole to begin installation.

A block farther up the street, machinery connected

to a water truck would burrow underground, using water 

from the truck to move the dirt and to push 

the tubing through the little tunnel. 

I guess then the cables follow, threaded 

through the corresponding tubes.

These "tails" are left above ground, I suppose 

to be connected to the next segment 

of tubing, as it is all buried beneath the surface.

Pushing Back

I don't know how many times I've walked across 

the parking lot outside my home, but it must be somewhere 

in the thousands. Just today, for whatever reason,

I finally noticed the way the seeds had fallen into the cracks

in the asphalt. They lay in the fissures, slowly

taking back the Earth. Overlapping, creating a golden

path where the seeds would eventually sprout,

green grasses and little trees reach upward, 

sheltered by the twigs. 

It looked like maps of the Mississippi, a giant river, 

pushing, taking back, exerting its will on man's plan.

November Theme Day: Water's Edge

The day I took this the clouds were moving in to hide 

the bright sun. I turned to look over the little bridge at the Coke Field, 

where the sun reflected off the water so brightly it drove the plants 

at water's edge into shadows and silhouette.

Today is Theme Day for the members of the 

City Daily Photo community of bloggers.

Here are other interpretations of the theme,

made by photographers from all over the world.

  

Halloween: Munch in Speedway

The damn thing distracts me every time I've passed it.

A plastic ghoul, it's suspended about 8 feet

above me and, every time I've seen it, I've been

reminded of Edvard Munch's Scream.

This the third of four versions of Scream done

  by Munch. The other three are paintings, held in 

Norwegian museums, while this 

is a pastel drawing the artist made in 1895.

When I look at this, I also see the orange sunset

from Monday night, created by the weather system

that has brought so much trouble to the Atlantic coast.

The drawing, purchased by billionaire Leon Black, will be on 

exhibit at the Museum of Modern Art in NYC

for six months, until April 29th.

Sandy's Fringe

The weather maps shown on TV look as though almost 

the entire eastern half of the United States is somehow affected by 

this huge storm, a combination of hurricane meets nor'easter.

 Indianapolis is about 705 miles from 

Atlantic City, New Jersey. We were told to expect 

high winds beginning around 5 o'clock this afternoon. 

They came, almost as if scheduled,

with rain expected Tuesday morning.

I looked up to see a thin cover of clouds, moving

from the east, spreading in a sweeping arc towards

the setting sun. The light to the south reflected lavender

off the cloud cover, but burned like fire in the west

as the sun set.

It may have been just a coincidence, but there seemed 

to be more truck traffic than usual. Maybe a lot of the drivers

had left a little earlier than usual, trying to put as much

distance as possible between their trucks and the storm.

Reflected Glory

The sidewalks in the park were still wet and the sun still bright 

when a patch of gold light shown from a shallow puddle, 

spreading its warmth onto the walk like an aura. 

I looked around and found the tree whose reflection it was, 

basking proudly in the sun.