Jack 'n' Jill

Jack 'n' Jill

went up the hill

to fetch a pail of water.

Jack fell down

and broke his crown,

while Jill came tumbling after.

He sure as hell did!
Broke it off!  Broke it clean off!

Headless Jack will live out his days in view 
of the Kite-Eating Tree, forced to always allow
Little Jack to do his thinking, led around Speedway
by the stolid, loyal Jill.

Creekview

It was raining today -- the leaves were falling,

 pulled by the breezes from their trees.

I stopped by the creek, again looking for turtles.

While there, people crossed the bridge 

from the other side of the field.

I was gazing into the creek, looking for fish and turtles

as two men and a little boy passed behind me.

I was both amazed and dismayed that they did not stop

to take even a glance at a place I think is beautiful.

While I did not see any turtles, I did see jewel-like colors

in the leaves. Some of them had sunk to the bottom of the creek, 

where the water streamed over them in ripples faceted

by the rocks, accented by the sun. How could someone

not look, even for a little bit?

Another Textured Tuesday

The yellow leaves seemed to dance, 

swaying to the rhythm of the breeze. 

A final celebration of their summer 

before giving in to the coming winter.

I had to stand patiently, to watch them, 

waiting to take a picture of their dance, 

hoping they would pause just long enough,

bowing before they left their stage.

Clueless Amid Precast

I'd made an urban safari to visit the earth moving equipment and cement drainage pipe I'd seen lying in the street. I walked for two hours, making other stops along the way, but to find them, virtually unguarded and so close I could touch them, smell the dirt and oil was a special treat. The equipment had a coat of oxidation that virtually matched the earth it was meant to gouge, push and shift around.

Precast cement pipe laid at disused railroad right-of-way.

The Town of Speedway is installing new drainage pipe, a project expected to be completed next summer. The work crews have left sections of it lying around the neighborhood, as inviting as a playground, complete with gaskets to seal the sections, plugs and lubricant (soap!) to help the concrete pieces slide together.

Here are gaskets and plugs used to connect
 and seal the pipe sections.

Section placed for installation at the corner
of 11th Street and Winton Avenue.

I only have a very general idea of how most of the stuff is used, and even looking up specifications on the internet wasn't much help; apparently, manufacturers don't expect that a middle-aged woman's incessant curiosity would lead her to idling through their product info. (Pictures, guys! I want pictures complete with ID call-outs!) 

Metal pipe, grate piece and paraphernalia meant for bracing

Looking east on 10th Street at Winton Avenue.

Conical shape at back is top section of precast
manhole which will be stacked onto other
sections like the one at left,
as they are sunk into the ground

99% > 1%

An article in the local paper a couple days ago, about the expected turn-out on Saturday for the Occupy Indy event, stated only about 200-300 people were expected. By the time I arrived a bit after 12 noon the numbers were well above that. When we walked towards the Circle, there were over 1,000 frustrated individuals. Not bad for a bunch of people who live in a notoriously "red" state. 

There were people of all ages, all colors, all political persuasions. 

Everyone was polite, everyone was considerate. Everyone was educated. All the speakers were articulate, some a bit "off-topic," one or two were downright stirring. Oh, yeah, and for the person who made aspersions about the "personal hygiene" of the participants, everyone was clean.

What we all had in common was our anger at a government that has allowed itself to be bought off by the banking, investment and insurance industries, among others, at the expense of the people they are intended to represent. 

One speaker mentioned that the framers of the Constitution, however brilliant they may have been, did not address the concept of greed as it never occurred to them it would be a problem; it has been overweening, venal greed that has caused the people in government to legislate in their own interests, rather than those of the nation as a whole.

It is old news that people who are unemployed 
are having difficulty finding a job, 

that those who have a job often find themselves underemployed, 

still unable to meet basic expenses, or that those who are fully employed 

are often required to do the work of two people. It is not one segment of the work force, but nearly everyone across the spectrum 
who feels undervalued, diminished and betrayed   

It is a pernicious situation, no good for anyone in the long run.

Other than for the bottom line of the corporations.

Please excuse me as I am new to this. I did not want to make a long

sermon, but state some of what I heard today.

Just In Case, 'Cause You Never Know

During my "one lap of Speedway" yesterday, I saw three members of the Speedway Fire Department enjoying the pleasant afternoon, sitting in front of the station. Don't be fooled by their apparent idleness: 

the station is spotless, the fire engines are gleaming and 

their equipment is meticulously maintained.

Firefighters as a group, seem to enjoy the kind of camaraderie and trust 

that few of us will ever enjoy with our coworkers. It is a special bond, one formed by fire or the threat of it. They work together, train together, 

and laugh together to form the kind of team 

us cubicle-bound drones can only imagine.

Each man's turn-out gear is carefully placed near the apparatus, 

close at hand for whatever alarm that may come. Due to the vast improvement in building practices and materials, as well as the establishment of building codes, there are fewer fires: well over one half the runs fire stations receive are actually emergency runs for reasons other than fire. As a result, most firefighters are now cross-trained and certified as emergency medical technicians and paramedics

There appeared to be miles of hose, carefully cleaned, 

flattened and coiled in every spare corner of the station. 

It comes in different sizes and sits tidily placed in racks, 

awaiting possible use for an event that no one wants to occur, 

but "just in case, 'cause you never know."

This is my favorite picture. I saw the canvas-clad figure 

lying on the floor and, of course, against all logic I briefly thought the men 

up front had left one of their cohorts sprawled on the floor. 

"Oh, pfft! you silly woman," I thought, "it's a training dummy." 

My more macabre side took over and I took pictures. 

Some Days Are Just Like That ...

...Nuthin' but blank walls and pussy cats.

Then I took another look and noticed the sun reflecting off the pavement made the asphalt look nearly white, the sections of bricks are evenly divided by support beams. The bricks uneven surface looks like basket weave; is that a natural outcome due to the hand of the bricklayer, or just shoddy work? 

The security lights cast shadows, breaking the monotony of the vertical lines, while a small yellow sticker on the door provides 

the one touch of color.

The slightly petulant cat is Taylor, a young female tabby who was sent to me by a rescue organization last December, the day after my previous cat died.

She was filthy dirty, extremely thin and picking her up caused her to become stiff-legged and frantic. The sounds of loud voices and heavy footfalls 

would make her hide for hours.

Things are better now. Taylor's coat is soft and glossy, she's filled out from a steady diet of kibble, and she sometimes gives indication that 

she actually may know her name. She's a bright cat -- you can see that in her green eyes -- she doesn't miss a thing, but it seems that the synapse or two that runs between her ears operates on some kind of delay. Her "chatter" is made up of peeps and chirps that aren't unpleasant to hear.

I guess she's gonna stay.