Late Afternoon Sun

Amid all the gray yesterday afternoon,

 I was nearly blinded by the sun's reflection 

off a nearby building. The clouds were filled 

with snow, so I must've gotten the last few 

of the rays allotted for the day.

A Little Frosty Around the Edges

Along with most of my family, I started a cold 

Christmas day. While mine is mild, the younger ones 

and their mamas are suffering with flu 

and sinus infections. Bleh! and all that to this

seasonal assault on people's daily lives,

especially to the moms who, ill themselves,

must also see to the timely meds of their babies.

I spent the weekend curled up on the couch,

watching movies, doing crossword puzzles,

and working on a drawing/painting.

On Monday, I went out for breakfast and

to buy groceries. After being in a coolish apartment,

then the cold outdoors, I nearly fainted when

I went into the too-warm atmosphere of the

restaurant. I ate my breakfast, savored my coffee, 

then returned outside where, unbelieveably, 

I enjoyed the chill air of the morning.

Feeling Icky

I am rarely ill. I don't know what's brought on 

my current bout with aches, pains, couching and runny nose. 

I definitely have them, though. All I want to do 

is to curl up in a fetal position under a quilt,

watching Downton Abbey reruns and a Clint Eastwood 

Harry Callahan movie. One odd bit that interested

me was a program called The Great British Bake Off.

Oh, yum. Even though I couldn't have eaten the offerings,

the anticipation of the numerous cakes

was wonderfully devine.

The Joys (or Not) of Commuting, Part II

Not having a car definitely has its drawbacks.

The bus system in this city has always been inefficient 

and inconvenient; planning an outing means knowing 

it will be a safari requiring time and patience.

On the other hand, because I've always walked 

or taken a bus I know and see this city

in an entirely different way than do the people

who drive everywhere, texting and talking on cell phones

as they go. On foot, Wednesday morning, I saw

raindrops trembling on the curls of a bare vine.

And as I entered the dressing room to change for practice,

I was greeted by a half dozen snowmen, peeping

around the locker doors to see the reactions of the girls

to the presents left for them on the bench.

I see small beauties in the cracks in sidewalks,

the cracked and peeling paint on pavements.

It's a different world for me, even though I share

the same space as drivers.

The Joys (or Not) of Commuting

The above picture was taken Wednesday, 

Christmas Eve, at about 7:30 a.m.

I was half way to a morning swim practice 

on the far east side of Indy, a trip that spanned 

nearly the entire metro area, west to east.

I've commuted by bus to work and to just about

everything I want to do, every event I want

to attend, for virtually my entire working life.

Of those, only the first job involved just

one bus ride from home to work and back.

Everything else has involved two rides, taking about

two hours one way. In that amount of time, 

I could drive to just about any one of the state borders.

"Get a car," you say?

Well, when I was more naive, I believed that success,

like that of folks who worked in Manhattan,

involved having your own apartment and taking

the subways to work. I got that part of my dream.

However, here in Indiana, having an apartment 

and taking the bus relegates you to the category 

of "poor life decisions."  While I knew early on

I didn't want an over-priced mini-McMansion

or a gas-guzzling SUV, I didn't realize just how much

I was denying myself opportunities to enjoy this city 

by not having a car.  However, earning enough money 

to support said car also seemed a thankless task, 

one eternally beyond my means.

When I joined Indy Masters about eighteen 

months ago, I did so with trepidation, just wanting

to improve my swimming skills to help me lose weight.

I had no idea that it would become such a part

of my identity, not only helping with weight loss,

but with issues of confidence and self-esteem that

have plagued me my entire life. Participation

in the practice sessions has led me to 

the thresholds of other places I want to enter;

at a point in my life where most would think 

I should be kicking back to enjoy my "idle time," 

I am trying to to achieve my biggest, 

most illusive dream, to become a "working artist," 

with gallery exhibitions added to my resume 

with embarrassing regularity. 

I would also like to become a really

good swimmer, one who can look at a span of water 

and know she can swim across it successfully.

And I want a car.

I missed the IAM Holiday Party last weekend, 

only to find the Head Coach, Dean Hawks,

had inaugurated a new award, the Wyoming Award, 

which I found I'd earned because of my near-daily

commutes to practice. Coach Dean migrated

to Indy from Wyoming a couple years ago.

I guess he thought my bus rides were nearly

the equivalent of driving across Wyoming to get,

well, anywhere. I joked it should become a 

"traveling trophy," but I think I will put it

on the front bumper of my first car, and I will take

both trophies to practice with pride.

Thank you, Dean. Thank you, George. Thank you, Mel.

Thank you, Brian, the only person who knew

the details of "two buses and a half-mile walk."

Merry Christmas (and Whatever Else Is Celebrated)

On my way to Christmas Eve swim practice, 

I stopped to take a few early morning pictures 

outside the Indiana State House. 

Here, the statue of Governor Morton, 

flanked by two Union soldiers, looks east towards 

the lighted Monument Circle.

Portrait of a Bus Driver: About the Sixth

I spent Monday at workshops meant to assist me 

to develop my job hunting skills.

The first had one sentence of value to me,

the second was of more use. The work force in this

city is geared more towards the insurance, medical,

technical businesses. My skills are more specialized, 

meant more as support for all of the above -

design for advertising and promotional pieces,

so work is going to be more difficult to find.

I finished the first workshop, then took a bus

back into town to get lunch. 

The bus driver was a picture of concentration 

as she wove through the work day traffic.

Earlier that morning I'd stood at the corner 

of 10th Street and White River Parkway 

to make the connection to get to the workshops.

The structures are storage silos for grain 

storage, specifically corn that the farmers bring

to be dried. On some days the breeze smells like

popcorn, wafting across the river and through

the neighborhoods.

A Splash of Red

Sort of.

A work man has been turned loose near the Natatorium,

 marking utilities for future projects.

Scrub the gravel around a bit and the sprayed

blotches would be disrupted, and who knows what

to make of the markings in the plants?

They'll die off long before the project is started.

Staying Connected

The title of this show in the Marsh Gallery

at the Herron School of Art and Design is 

Connection: Exploring Interpersonal Communication.

I had seen some of the artists installing the exhibit

a few days earlier and was glad I returned.

The theme of their work was based in their attempts 

to gain an understanding of the ways people 

interact with each other, specifically through 

social media, e-mail and text messaging. 

What I found fascinating, and ironic,

was much of the exhibit was hand-made.

While the artists definitely used electronic imaging

and printing for elements of their exhibit,

a lot of the pieces were hand-cut, the colored thread

used to create connections was pinned by

industrious hands, and the notes left by visitors

were virtually all hand-written.

The immediacy of the hand-made conveys 

an intimacy that is lost in the electronic media. 

While we may communicate with thousands 

of folks each day, people tend to feel

a certain safety, an anonymity in e-messages

that has proven to be illusory: people write 

mean and hurtful things on the social media, 

things they would not think of writing on paper.

Conversely, folks who develop on-line ties

very often exist in comparative isolation, unable to engage in 

actual interpersonal action, a lonely existence, for sure.

I wonder, however, whether anyone will read

all of the notes that have been left?

Will they be able to categorize and form

any conclusions from the little pieces of paper?

Yellow Triangle

To get the picture I want, one showing the geometry 

and perspective in this entryway,

I'd have to move the trash can. 

That means I'd have to touch it. Then touch my camera. 

Then put the camera back in my coat pocket. 

Then touch the trash can. Again.

Please, just imagine the nice point on the triangle 

so I don't have to ever touch the trash can.

Leaf in Blue Light

The leaves lay in a sidewalk light, 

illuminating the area 

outside a downtown restaurant.

Tawdry Elegance

After swimming, I sometimes go to Starbucks 

on the Circle to wait between buses. 

During the holidays, the florist's windows

in the Chase Tower are filled with glitzy ornaments,

gauzy bright ribbons, and various stems

encrusted with glitter.

These windows provide a cheerful spot

along the cold, gray sidewalks.

I love them.

In the Stacks

Before swimming on Monday night, 

I stopped in to visit the Herron School of Art library.

Would you be surprised to know that I was looking at books 

on the use of patterns as design elements?

Fine Vines

While the hospital was completed and opened 

just under a year ago, planting for the plaza 

and water features at Eskenazi Health did not begin 

until this past spring. Grasses and reeds were

placed in the water features, while sod

was laid and numerous flowering plants dug

in and around the huge trellis/arcade,

flowers that will provide color and aroma for 

visitors who will relax within and under its shade.

For now, all we have are hints of what is to come.

Colored lights bounce off the trellis framework

and the few vines that grew up into

the supports over the summer. 

Underneath, the little Duos deli provides

lunch and snacks for its guests,

while the water features give peaceful

background noise for people sitting around them.

Dunno, Just Lichen Pictures

I walked to the grocery this afternoon, 

not expecting to find anything to photograph.

I happened by a couple trees, dotted with lichen. 

I liked the green-y brown leaves paired 

with the gray bark and lichen on their surface.

Lobbying for Christmas Cheer

The performance is copyrighted and, 

as the Indianapolis Symphony Orchestra is performing 

numbers from the soundtrack of "Frozen," 

photos may not be taken of the performance.

 I can tell you that Angela Brown,

soprano with the Metropolitan Opera,

Ben Crawford, who sang on the soundtrack

of "Frozen" and performed as Shrek

in the Broadway musical, are featured performers

in the ISO's annual Yuletide Celebration.

There are dancers and singers in beautiful,

sparkly gowns, an aerialist performing to

"Do You Want to Build a Snowman,"

played by Time for Three, and a rousing 

chorus line of tap dancing Santas,

all backed by members of the 

Indianapolis Symphony Orchestra.

Hot chocolate, wassail, and other drinks,

as well as iced sugar cookies, were popular

sellers during the intermission.

Everybody marveled at the music and dancing,

cheered and applauded the performers,

then left happily to continue shopping, return home, 

and to have dinner, hearts lifted by the

very fine performance they had experienced.

Please, come yourself.

If you can get tickets.

Curve and Linear

Patterns created by the night, lights 

and misty rain at the Plaza

outside Eskenazi Health.

White at Night

"Slow Food Done Fast" is the motto of the little deli 

just outside Eskenazi Health.

The menu posted in the window shows a lot

of vegan and gluten free options.

However, they keep short hours, opening

only for the lunch crowd, so I haven't been able

to try this little store's offerings.

I see it only at night, when it's clean, white

interior gleams softly in the night lights.

Questions from the Author Fair

Saturday afternoon, seventy Hoosier authors 

met visitors to the Indiana Historical Society's 

12th Annual Holiday Author Fair. 

From noon until four o'clock people streamed 

into Eli Lilly Hall, browsing the varied offerings, 

talking with the authors, and buying books.

Among the more popular authors present was

Bobby "Slick" Leonard, Hoosier basketball legend,

who happily met his many admirers and signed

their copies of his book.

In this case, it's a pleasure to say that the

sports books outsold the offerings from a couple

of the more strident representatives of

a radically conservative leaning, by about two to one.

You go, Slick!

I spent the afternoon seated between a man 

who had written a book about Hoosier prisoners 

at Andersonville, one of the largest of the 

Confederate military prisons of the Civil War, 

and Ed Wenck, whose book

Hoosier Killers: Indiana's Darkest History,

sold out long before the event concluded.

What I found most interesting was the number of 

people who spoke to him who told of murders

in their families, one recounting the slaughter

of an entire household of relatives.

We read every day of random shootings,

of brutalities visited in almost routine fashion

upon people we regard as "others," "not us."

These people, all white, all middle class,

were also carrying around this terrible burden.

Isn't it about time we acknowledged this horror is

just below the surface of our existences,

that we share unspeakable sorrows?

Maybe then we could come together for a way

to lessen the number of these tragedies. 

Most of the visitors were adults, which led me 

to also wonder if we were seeing the last of a generation 

that uses shredded trees as a reading device. 

Myself, I love the smell of ink, the feel of paper 

in my hand, and the look and rhythm 

of a well-designed page. How will it be 

for the ones coming along with e-devices?

Fra-GEE-lay

As I left the Holiday Author Fair on Saturday 

at the Indianapolis Historical Society,

I paused at the living room setting in the lobby. 

Meant to represent the home from "A Christmas Story,"

the set includes presents under the tree - 

Dad's blue bowling ball, a Flexible Flyer sled, 

and the infamous Red Ryder BB gun.

Visitors can dress up in the awful, humiliating

pink bunny PJs and have their picture taken with

the wondrously ugly leg lamp.

In the top picture, a visitor takes a picture of her daughter 

for Instagram while my sister-in-law, Fran,

watches in the background. 

The father in the easy chair beside leg lamp 

waits patiently for his family to don pink pajamas.

The leg lamp is fondly gazed upon by just about

everyone who's seen the movie, recalling Darren McGavin 

as the Dad and his pride in the "important prize,"

totally oblivious to his wife's dismay.

And lastly, here is SDP, resplendent in Ralphie's 
bunny ears and glasses, posing with the carton 

for a Red Ryder BB gun, the gift 
most coveted by Ralphie.
Rest assured, I will abide by my own
quirky Christmas tradition: I will
watch A Christmas Story at least once during
its Christmas day marathon on cable TV.

It's a Berry Gray Day

On Thursday, the day's colors were not much different 

at dawn than they were at dusk.

The overcast was the shade of the gray cardboard
that backs pads of notepaper.
I'd gone to McDonald's for a latte, hot and sweet,
where I watched the modest folk at nearby
tables, chatting with friends and spouses over
their McGriddles and orange juice.
Outside, I saw the red berries shining out
from the pale gold grasses that border the highway.
I left to take a few pictures, wending my
way between parked cars to get to the little
grove of trees. The scarlet dance of the berries 
was the brightest color I saw all day.

Sometimes, I feel this overwhelming beigeness

I've walked past the vent to the Natatorium

 hundreds of times, but it wasn't until Tuesday 

that I noticed the contrast between the field of rocks 

and the horizontal lines of the vent.

And then there's this from my blog pal, David,

that is guaranteed to blast any beigeness

out of one's psyche.

Undulating Color

These curved walls are screens, 

meant to disguise the parking garage at the new 

Axis apartment building in downtown Indy.

I like the way the designers have chosen to have this

multicolored carapace have a bit of movement,

rather than to leave the garage like so many others

of its kind, flat beige and unadorned

And I am slowly working my way through the Crash Course

videos on You Tube. Written and produced by brothers

John and Hank Green, the videos cover a broad expanse of topics,

bringing common sense explanations to difficult subjects.

December Theme Day: Worker

Workers of all sorts can be seen around Indy, 

working all hours, all seasons, and in all sorts of weather. 

Here, a man checks messages on his phone 

while monitoring the ventilation system 

being used by his co-workers in tunnels 

just below the sidewalk.

Around the corner, construction workers empty 

rubbish from their renovation work 

in the building to the left.

The first day of every month is Theme Day 

for the bloggers of City Daily Photo.

To see how other photographers the world over 

have depicted the workers of their city,

just click on the link above, or on the CDP badge 

in the right hand column of this page.

Warmer, With Rain

Saturday, the sun appeared, muted and pastel, 

surrounded by wisps of clouds

in lavender and mauve, while contrails

darted across the sky, bursting 

streaks of pink and coral.

This morning, the clouds roll in,

blue-black ink spreading across wet paper,

pouring their color over the land.

Grasses, Shorn

The ornamental grasses, whose green strands

earlier had danced proudly in the breezes,

found themselves shorn, their grassy plumes

thrown away. Now the bare stalks

stand like a burr haircut,

catching stray leaves at its base.

The Day Before

These images, 

the last of the sycamore leaves, 

were formed by the rain 

and mud on the drive outside 

my apartment. 

Later, another rain will wash

away this last bit of fall, 

leading the way

into winter 

Powdered Holes

After the work day is over, the people who actually keep 

the city functioning begin their shifts.

Under the glare of LED lights, utility workers

enter the netherworld of Indy's buildings

to maintain the heating, electrical and

telecommunications systems that the accountants,

attorneys, and administrative workers need

to perform their jobs.

I saw these men working near the intersection 

of Pennsylvania and Ohio Streets, where

they dug through several inches of asphalt and

concrete to lift the heavy steel covers,

giving them access to the steam ducts below.

It appears that, in addition to the near-daylight 

quality of the lighting, the men are using 

saws that somehow don't allow the concrete 

dust to blow all over. Instead, it's made

a tidy pile around the perimeter of the hole.