Trudging Towards Spring

The remains of the robins' feast cling

 to the branches of the trees, 

as little crystals of rain hang in the balance,

sequins decorating a rainy day

on their way to Spring, to nurture 

the grass that lies below.

Glistening Cold

With spring just five weeks away, 

the weather has been tolerable. This has been

deceptive, though, because the notorious polar vortex

is coming to town, once again, its icy fingers

set to grasp us all in a chilling grip.

Moisture was in the air as I approached the 

Natatorium for practice and, when I left

a few hours later, the lights from on-coming cars

showed the mist on the bus stop glass.  

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.

The Winter Lingers

Officially, Spring began in March and 

Summer is just a month away.

The cold temperatures linger on, 

the few sunny days interspersed by chilly rains.

It makes one wonder what Winter looks like, 

since it's been cloaked so well in Spring's clothing.

People, fooled by the disguise, have ventured out

without warm coats, and ended up trapped

in rainstorms wearing clothes meant for balmy

breezes and sunny skies.

Beyond the runny noses and watery eyes

lie stares, looking not so much towards Spring

and its warmth, but back -- back to promises

of easier times unfulfilled by masters 

wearing Armani suits, in whose own hearts

winter has taken root. There, winter is not a season,

but a hollow place where a soul should be.

A place where greed has cast long, dark fingers

over the sky, robbing the people 

of warmth and light.

These men, whose phony smiles

do little to mask the cold glint in their eyes,

suck the resources out of the ground. 

They continue to cut the tops off mountains 

in their quest for increasingly meager returns of coal, 

the profits from which line the pockets of Congressmen. 

And the voters, the people who need to pay for heat 

to warm their homes, stand in the cold rain, 

wondering what they did wrong.

Zig-Zag

While sitting in a corner coffee shop near the Circle, 

I noticed a zig-zag pattern just outside the window. 

The rain-slick street brought out reflections 

from running lights on cars, as well as accentuating 

the dashed pattern of the cross walk markings.

More than a few Zig-Zags have 
been passed over the decades and these 
men remain as excellent as ever.

Wintery Shades of Gray

It has rained for about two-and-a-half days straight.

 I love the humidity with the mild air and would 

be happy if this would be our winter, but sadly,

temperatures that have been in the fifties are dropping -- 

Boo! back into the thirties. The ground is sodden

with large pools of standing water in 

the Coke Field and elsewhere. 

Nearby, the sidewalk was clotted with leaves

faded into suitably dire shades of gray.

I liked the way the leaves related to each other, creating

interesting patterns of negative and positive space,

and especially enjoyed the swirls and whorls

the rain water made as it flowed amid the leaves.

A Beaded Gown

As I walked to the store Saturday morning, 

I caught sight of the crystalline raindrops 

decorating the tree in a neighbor's yard.

The tree did not appear bare so much 

as it seemed to be wearing 

a lacy gown encrusted with beads.

I thought maybe the trees on the block had 

a party during this Christmas season,

and this one had just gotten home.

Gray Is Bustin' Out All Over

Woo. Hoo. These photos are typical of how the city 

has looked this week, either gray and damp,

or gray and cold. Looking south from the corner

of Ohio and Capitol Streets, one can see the facade of

the Simon Properties corporate headquarters.

It looks like it has a giant tuning fork stuck on its front.

When it was being erected, one critic remarked that

the Simon family could have afforded the services of an

architect who would design a creative landmark,

instead giving us more of the same pre-fab concrete,

granite, and limestone facades that make up the

rest of the downtown offices.

Take a look towards the east, along Ohio Street,

and one can see the same ol'-sameol'

with little variation in color or width of stripes.

It must be one of the classes in basic architecture -

Stripes: Glass and Granite 101.

WTF? Muddy Prints

I was returning home from the store when I saw the prints, 

at first taking them to be those of a big dog. 

After second look, I was surprised and dismayed to see 

they were the prints of a small child,

one who had perhaps been pulling a wagon.

There were no accompanying prints, such

as an adult might make, so why was this child out alone,

in his stocking feet, on a damp and dreary morning? 

A Beaded Curtain

After swimming Monday evening, I went downtown 

to catch the bus home. It was raining a cold mist 

as I waited the few minutes before it arrived.

I sat on a bench at the Federal court building to watch

the traffic and take in all the colored lights.

Many of the buildings have colored lights as a part of 

their decorative features, accenting their ridges and eaves.

Some change with the season; one building, whose lights are 

usually blue, showed an eerie orange glow for Halloween.

Traffic and street lights cast their luminous sheen

onto the damp pavement and, as the bus prepared to pull

away from the curb, the rivulets of rain took on

the colors of red beaded curtains, the wipers pulling the strands 

aside to reveal the colorful scene just beyond.

The Next Day: Soggy Little Sweaters

It's inevitable, I suppose. After all, the unofficial state motto of Indiana is, 

"If you don't like our weather, stick around for fifteen minutes."

I woke up to rain showers that continued throughout the day. When I went

to the store, I stopped to check on the magnolia tree.

It was doing just fine, the little sweaters worn by its buds

sheltered them from the wet weather.

No such little sweaters for the humans though, as they 

dashed through the drizzle on their way to the store.

Lacy Crystals

It's silly, but I can't help myself.

I walked down to the convenience store to buy a half gallon of milk.

Most of the ice that had formed during Friday's storm had melted.

All that was left existed in the shadows of the bushes that

sheltered it from the sun. In fact, the ice was the shadow, taking on 

the shape of the dormant shrubs that hovered over the

delicate crystals of icy lace.

Tiny Ice

A storm front went through overnight, bringing freezing rain, sleet and a bit of snow.

While not as severe as had been expected, the morning commute was

full of hazards for thousands of drivers. There was a light rain when I left 

the house later in the morning. The rain froze on reaching the ground, coating 

the plants and twigs with a granular pattern describing each drop.

  

Theme Day: Umbrellas

I can't say whether people are suffering with flu or overcome 

by boredom. Here is downtown Indy at about 5 p.m.

Wednesday afternoon, gray and bleak - and that's the people!

The day started with temperatures in the mid-50s 

and a few patches of sun. Over the afternoon, the weather

became colder, complete with the depressing drizzle

you can see above.

The woman in the green coat has just arrived at the bus stop 

after a hard day fielding calls made to the mayor's office 

by disgruntled citizens. She's tired.

It's my friend Joyce, with whom I've commuted

on the bus for nearly 15 years. She always has an

interesting story to tell. Riding home in the evenings means

she gets to be with her daughter and friends -

a bit of peace at the end of a stressful day.

The monthly theme for City Daily Photo participants is Umbrellas. 

To see their interpretations, click on the link just above.

Take a tour of the pictures, and explore the world through the

eyes of people who live in the many cities represented.

And, like Joyce, may a smile be your umbrella.

I couldn't pass up the chance to use that.*Snicker*

Textured Tuesday: Crystal Screen

On my way to the grocery Sunday afternoon, 

I spotted a screen that had been blown out of a window 

during the overnight storms. Its beauty stopped me in my tracks.

Droplets of water clung to the underside of the screen, creating a pattern

of clear circles against its black grid. Then, as the weight of the accumulated

water caused the screen to sag, the puddle below acquired a pattern

of dashed lines. The best bit, though, was when I bent down

to see the shadows the screen had cast on the puddle:

there they were, the beads of water, both reflected and reflecting 

upward, revealing the gray sky and the grid that held them,

that kept them from joining the pooled water just below.

Navel Gazing: Icy Confusion

As an ambulance drove by my home this evening, 

I noticed its lights reflected off an icy glaze developing 

on the rain puddles. The temperatures were in the fifties yesterday,

and one could see clouds, blue-black with moisture, approaching

from the southwest. It began raining during the late

afternoon and kept up for twenty-four hours. I walked to the

store, took some pictures, noting that the forsythia bush near

my door had developed some buds. Poor thing, I thought.

Along with the rain, the temperatures began to drop, 

so the buds are for naught. How many times can a plant

do this before it does not bloom at all? 

The City Daily Photo portal chose to not have a Theme Day 

for January, opting instead to host a day of exploration 

into how our work has changed since we began blogging.

Me? I'm still trying to figure out how to get my camera 

to focus on my subject rather than its background.

No change, I'm afraid. I'm trying to become braver about

including human subjects in my photography.

Again, only marginal improvement.

I began this blog in order to get into the habit

discipline of sticking words together

in some coherent fashion. Perhaps my editing

has improved, my vocabulary more varied.

Maybe my images are a bit more refined because

I am looking more for the art in every day things

than I am seeking just to record them. I dunno.

Click on the link above to view the CDP participants.

A Rainy Winter Day

I walked to the grocery Thursday afternoon, thinking I would return home 

before the rain started. Wrong. I could have walked home, 

but decided to catch the bus because I had a package 

I didn't want to get wet. The rain will wash away the remains of 

snow that had fallen since Christmas.

For those who think that snow in the Midwest looks

like those prettified pictures of happy people riding in a horse-drawn

sleigh, the picture below shows a mound of snow at our local

shopping center. Created by a snow plough to clear the parking lot,

such mounds form the highest elevations throughout 

the Midwest, until finally melted by the sun sometime in April.

I Wanted to Look Pretty ...

I knew Thursday might be the last day to work on my little assignment, 

so wanted to present a nice appearance for particular people. 

I wore a new pair of trousers I'd just hemmed, made of 

a tiny houndstooth check material. I wore a nice lace top 

that contrasted well with the weave and a black tunic cardigan. 

It looked pretty decent together.

My hair looked sleek and shiny and behaved 

well this morning, too.

It was raining lightly when I left the house, but the temperature was decent.

I caught the bus from home just as the downpour hit. Snug and warm

on the bus, I wasn't too concerned; I had another bus to catch but that hadn't 

presented much of a hassle in the past. Did I tell you it was raining?

I crossed the street to wait for the second bus. Commuters drove past where

I was standing, throwing up five foot walls of rainwater that was

pooled near the curb. Great splotches of water (re)rained upon my

(formerly) shiny head, sprayed like a fusillade of bullets across my raincoat,

and dotted my new trousers with giant wet spots, not once, not twice,

but four times. I was torn between using my umbrella against

the falling rain, or as a shield against the onslaught from the street.

Neither effort was effective. I couldn't get away from it.

The fourth assault by passing cars resulted

in street soil-tainted water being splashed on my chest and

running down between my breasts, into the lacy bra that was

underneath my pretty lace top. The bus turned the corner and stopped 

to pick me up just as I began to cry from frustration.

I had wanted to look pretty.
When I left home I was Angelina Jolie, Helen Mirren, and
Ellen Barkin. By the time I got to work I was just
another sodden, bedraggled, overweight woman who wanted
to earn a few bucks for Christmas money.

Merry Christmas, everybody. Merry Christmas, Joe.

Wet and Cold

It had rained all night. When I left home for work 

this morning, the misted rain blew against my face. 

Downtown, the buildings were wrapped in shawls of low clouds.

The bus, full of people, crept towards our office. 

We slowly disgorged ourselves to go into the building, 

a small sodden group of people, hating the short journey

to the warmth we wanted. It was cold, but tolerable. 

Within the next few hours, the snows came, 

not in pretty fluff, but mixed into the rain, pushed along

by gusts of wind. What was tolerable this morning

had turned pretty miserable by late afternoon.

Even as we talked and joked among ourselves, my coworkers

and I each turned inward against the cold, thinking 

towards the warmth we'd find at home; 

our own little inner fires burning away 

the cold rain in our faces.