Ubiquitous

Looking like some odd portrait for a family

of circus acrobats, these chairs are stacked in a backyard

on Indy's Old Northside neighborhood.

The neighborhood is made up of numerous homes

in various stages of restoration, renewal,

and remodeling.

These pictures were taken Wednesday evening

as I walked a couple blocks from 

the bus stop to the Indiana Landmarks Center.

At one corner, a contractor who obviously

 took pride in his work, had embedded

a small plaque in a sidewalk he had installed.

While I couldn't find information

related to the sidewalks in this neighborhood,

Mr. Foster was responsible for the

construction of sidewalks, about a half

mile away, in July of 1893.

Here, nearly 125 years later, the quality

of the man's work is still apparent

in that it is still in use.

Ubiquitous

White plastic chairs of this ilk are seen everywhere, all over the world. I've seen versions of them used to do good, made into wheelchairs for people in Third World countries. More frequently, I've seen their plastic carcasses polluting the rivers, caught in the limbs of fallen trees coated with silt and brown plastic shopping bags.


They're used everywhere because they're inexpensive cheap and easily stored. When one gets blown off the boat or broken under the weight of an embarrassed guest, it can be easily replaced with a clone at any number of stores for well under $10.


This chair though, sitting beneath the only tree on that stretch of road, did not seem to be abandoned; it just looked as though it were somehow meditating, waiting for someone with whom it could share both the shade and the view.
   

The chair is its own throne, the tree and its shade is the castle. 

Their realm is behind them -- at the trees in the background

and the stream just beyond.