A New Leaf

 

Last July, I could be seen trudging through the Transit Center, lugging a tote and a bag full of groceries. Peeking out from one of those bags was a potted orchid, checking out the world beyond its nursery and the market's flower display for the first time in its bloomin' life. 

It had twelve flowers, all of which lasted until a couple weeks ago, falling off one by one. I trimmed back the remaining stems, hoping that the plant would last until next year, bringing with it a new batch of its pink and white blooms.

I did not expect to see a baby leaf emerging from within the larger plant, but it showed up not long before the remaining flowers fell off. The morning sun shines on it, showing its graceful curves and colors. While I like it just as it is, I want it to become strong like its parent leaves.

I've titled this post "A New Leaf", the same title of one of my favorite movies. I remember reading the short story, written by Elaine May, in The Saturday Evening Post, and when the movie came out in 1971, I think I was one of the few people to see it. I laughed so hard. The movie was both written and directed by Elaine May, but the studio, dissatisfied with her edits and perfectionism, took it away from her. Damn shame. And shame on them.

https://youtu.be/8Ilo6XbNG1M

Red, White, and Green

 And so it begins. ...

Redbirds in the Window

 A couple weeks ago, as I walked across the large expanse of lobby at Newfields, I noticed this grove of trees, decorated with tiny lights and a flock of cardinals. Years ago, I would decorate my own tree in similar fashion, hanging felted redbirds and white doves I'd bought at after-Christmas sales. The affect of their colors against the green of my tree was striking. Luckily, these little birds are inexpensive, so I may get some to re-boot the theme next year. IF I can find a place to put a tree.

Thanksgiving Day: Love, Science, and Dr. Fauci

 

Initially, my family had planned, like millions of others, to gather for our annual Thanksgiving dinner and Craft Day. But as the Covid-19 infections began an ominous rise in our state, we all decided to stay in our bunkers, hunkering down as the virus's Dementors prowl outside our windows. It's hard because we don't get together often to visit, drink the local brews, and help the kids make Christmas decorations. We've all tried to be careful: to wear our masks, wash our hands, limit our contact with other people, and avoid un-necessary outside excursions. But it is what it is; we will make it through.

I went to the store to buy the makin's for my own little feast. I told my brother and sister I would have my dinner of turkey, dressing, truffled mashed potatoes, and Brussels sprouts and enjoy them with a picture of Flat Dr. Fauci pinned up across the table from me.

And I did. There he is, Flat Dr. Fauci, his intelligent, killer blue eyes staring tolerantly at my carb-heavy meal. (No seconds! I was full!) I wonder if he understands just how much he is admired and appreciated for his efforts to guide us through this difficult time?

https://storycorps.org/stories/this-thanksgiving-the-faucis-reflect-on-family-and-gratitude/

  

Red, White, and Christmas

 

While poinsettia are stacked into Christmas tree shape in the front lobby at Newfields, I much prefer this simpler arrangement towards the back of the building.

"Holes" and "Lilies"

This installation is "Holes" by Chicago-based artist, Anders Hurwald Ruhwald. Every few years, the museum commissions a new installation for the main entry, of which this is the most recent.

This installation is a doormat. Found in the breezeway at the front entrance, I thought it a precursor to the circles of "Holes" to be seen just beyond, in the museum lobby.

This installation, now located at the back entrance to Newfields, near the Toby Theatre, is one of the earlier commissions displayed in the main lobby. Windows in the lobby have been covered with colored film. The glass panels turn in the circulating air, reflecting the colors, which are based on the palette used by Claude Monet when painting his series of "Water Lilies". 

Winter Is Coming

 The Winter Solstice will take place in the Northern Hemisphere on Monday, December 21st. In Indianapolis the Solstice will happen at 5:02 a.m. EST.

I know that only because I looked it up.

If we all work together, set our clocks for the time, we can be awake to hear winter creaking through our front doors, stirring a bit of frost in the air, and putting extra chill in our joints.

To me, it is a reminder that, after the Solstice has cast itself on the land, the days begin to lengthen, leaning towards the flowers of Spring, and the warmth of Summer suns.