Monumental Climb

Looking up at the south side of the Monument from it's base. It has been decorated
for the Christmas season with strands of lights. At night the lights resemble
a Christmas tree, with the statue of Victory serving as its "topper."

On Thursday, I went back to the Indianapolis Soldiers' 

and Sailors' Monument because I wanted to see 

downtown from the monument's viewing platform. 

A visitor has a choice whether they want to climb the 

narrow stairs to the top, 285 feet away, or ride the tiny elevator. 

I considered climbing the stairs, but the steps are unfriendly, 

with risers that are too steep for middle-aged knees.

Once inside, I actually found the interior of the Monument 

more interesting than the views. The stairs are narrow, barely wide 

enough for one person to use at a time; just before I left, 

I heard another woman get out of the elevator and waited for her 

at the top, as the stairwell was not wide enough for both of us.
I really liked the textured surface, hammered into 
the stone so long ago when the structure was built.

The elevator does not go all the way to the top,
requiring the visitor walk up another three stories,
using the narrow, steep staircase. When I emerged from the 
stairwell onto the platform, the first thing I noticed was
the red-painted orb which seems to serve as the central
point for a reinforcement system for the Monument.  

Pairs of steel bars have been installed in the walls, 
with two pair on each of the walls, extending the entire 
length of the structure. Unfortunately, there was no one available 
to explain the bars' exact function. I assume that they are meant
to control any shift or skew in the monument, say, due to
high winds or earthquakes.  

Shown below is one of the views from the platform, looking west
along Market Street towards the State Capitol Building.
The building center foreground is the Test Building, one of the first 
structures built for combined use as office space and 
automobile parking; the large blue rectangle is the 
J. W. Marriott Hotel; the blue speck just to the left of the 
Capitol dome is the Indianapolis Zoo, while the two parallel
beige lines are the old Washington Street Bridge, now part
of the River Promenade.

Looking west from the Monument, along Market Street
towards the State Capitol Building.

Revisiting the pigeon hat, um, hat. 
The street fowl warming itself on the statue
seems relaxed, oblivious to the fact that a pair of 
peregrine falcons use Victory as a perch,
from which they scope out unsuspecting pigeons
to become their next tasty treat.

Frosty Roses

After a week that had started off  bleak and unpromising, 

we have been treated to blue skies and more seasonable 

temperatures. Alongside the driveway into work 

I saw rosebushes, their late-season blooms outlined in frost.

It seemed like an unusual and beautiful study in contrasts.

If it's truly the small things we have that matter, 

sometimes it may also be all we have.

Today, it was the frosty roses that made me smile.

Theme Day: (In)Action

The theme for December is "action." I looked everywhere, 

found it all around. I then took another look and 

was amazed at how much time we spend waiting for action - 

as here when we sat inside this box on wheels, 

waiting as it rolls us to our destinations. 

The cars are waiting for their turn through the detour, 

the bus is waiting to enter the lane

designated by the arrow, and the passengers are 

waiting to get off at their stops.

I guess one could almost say that 

"for every action, there is an equal inaction."

To see how other people all over 
the world have interpreted today's theme,

Click here to view thumbnails for all participants

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.

Textured Tuesday: Analogous

It's all there - things that are related - leaves big and small, 

in a related color scheme from red, to orange, to yellow.

Yep, that's it. Analogous.

Ordinarily, I don't think I'd have noticed them, except I'm trying 

to teach myself to "Look where I'm lookin'," to try to find more interesting images. These were just dried leaves blown from the trees,

 against the hedge bordering a neighborhood yard.

Limestone Map

The landscape artists who designed the White River Central Canal Walk 

and River Promenade have created a feast of discovery for

the people who use it. Huge blocks of limestone border the walk behind the Indianapolis Zoo, some engraved and carved by man, in a hurry to leave his mark. Others bear traces of their origin where water and time, taking eons, 

have left their story. Below is a detail of one such block, where water has etched a map resembling the Mississippi River Delta.

It's a map that tells the Earth's origins, of where it's been, 

what it's made from and where it's going.  Touching the rough surface 
of the stone is like touching the journey of time.
Reminding us of our own impermanence, it will remain, 
telling Earth's story long after we have gone. 

A Crooked Journey

On an unseasonably warm afternoon, the low wooden fence 

zig-zags through the woods, imitating the path of 

the creek as it twists it's way to the river.

It's late autumn and the leaves have fallen from the trees, 

leaving them bare against the leaden sky. 

The wooden shed has been left to the weather as well, 

it's color fading to gray, returning to the color 

of the bare trees it came from.