Posted in Nature, Reflections on the everyday, tagged autumn mornings, trees, wind on October 2, 2015| Leave a Comment »
On Walkabout at dawn. The moon leads Venus and one trailing star westward as the sky lightens.
Curious autumn wind stirs still fully-leaved trees.
Ceaseless rushing sound, swirling, piling up, rolling on.
The trees are like ocean waves. I try to hear, what they try to say.
Posted in Reflections on the everyday, tagged hum, summer day on July 12, 2015| Leave a Comment »
The hum is more than the air conditioner outside an office on a summer day.
Accommodating cottonwoods add to the tune.
One dead tree in a lush, diversified greenbelt. Does it add? Subtract? The choice is yours.
Merciful cherry branches shield me from the sun.
One brilliant yellow daylily, like a star, blooms through a chain link fence.
Steps away, north-south traffic tends to rush hour.
The hum is more than the air conditioner, or the traffic, on a summer day.
Posted in Reflections on the everyday, tagged Life is but a dream, the right exit, timing on May 14, 2015| Leave a Comment »
Yesterday I encountered a lengthy traffic backup on the freeway, en route to my destination.
Construction? Accident? The cause was not clear.
Readying myself for a long wait and a tardy arrival, I bailed out of my lane for an exit at the last possible moment.
In unfamiliar surrounds, I plugged steadily eastward through spacious, spring-blooming terrain, arriving at my destination earlier than originally planned.
From off the beaten path, I arrived on time.
Something to that.
Posted in Reflections on the everyday, tagged Green apple Twizzlers, Twizzlers on April 26, 2015| Leave a Comment »
The first Twizzler, or the one-third that is left of it, faces downward, defying gravity as it clings to the rusted storm drain grate. Almost hidden among leaf debris, it is easy to miss. How do I know it is facing downward? That it is clinging, not sticking? I just do.
Up the block, all that remains are light green, wind-blown Twizzler shreds on the sidewalk where Twizzler Number Two, the rest of Twizzler Number One, and the shriveled apple used to be.
Cosmic clean-up force or concerned citizen? We will never know.
Bound for greatness, the first Twizzler is waiting for just the right moment. I am sure of it.
8:00 PM Epilogue: The first Twizzler has left the building–or at least the side of the storm drain grate.
Posted in Reflections on the everyday on April 24, 2015| Leave a Comment »
The first Twizzler is, literally, beside itself. As approximately one third of the Twizzler clings, or possibly sticks, to the storm drain grate for dear life, two thirds of the Twizzler is now located on a a sidewalk approximately half a city block north of its original location.
There, the Twizzler is neatly divided into two more thirds, one which retains its original form, the other shredded and laying in uniform pieces beside it. Why, and how? I know not.
A mere two feet away, the second Twizzler remains resting on the sidewalk, looking decidedly less flexible and lighter green than yesterday. Happens with age.
Adding to the scene is a three-quarters eaten apple, in an advanced stage of shrivel, just a few more feet north of the Twizzlers. Deposited in the last 24-hours, the apple nonetheless appears to have been partly consumed at least three to four days earlier. One wonders.
Why the sudden accumulation of moldering, partly consumed foodstuffs on a city street? Litterbugs, Aliens? Misinformed composters? Hard to know. I will keep you posted.
Posted in Reflections on the everyday, tagged Twizzlers on April 23, 2015| 2 Comments »
The first day, the luminous green Twizzler was precariously perched astride a storm drain. Fifteen feet down the sidewalk, another lay ignominiously in harm’s way, in the middle of the walk. One block down, the last Twizzler to be spotted, lay in the grass.
What mischief was afoot? A morse code of space and Twizzler? Accidental loss? Or intentional toss?
Day two, the first Twizzler had lofted itself back onto the safety of the sidewalk, off the storm drain. The second Twizzler remained in place. The third, still a luminous shade of green-apple against half-brown grass, was half eaten – hopefully by critter, not child.
Day three found the first Twizzler again bridging space between drain and sidewalk. The stress must be considerable. The second Twizzler, no longer luminous, has taken on a chalky appearance, and whatever ate the first half of the third Twizzler, apparently came back to finish the job. And then there were two.
On the fourth day, the first Twizzler is showing the strain. Slimmer than ever, downright stringy, hanging again over the precipice of the storm drain. Twizzler number two remains unmoved, yet oddly, its chalky opacity has given way to a translucency not seen since its youth. Secret sauce or temperature variation?
Stay tuned for tomorrow’s Twizzler update.
Posted in Nature, Psycho-Bubbles, Reflections on the everyday, tagged in time, rain, wind on April 21, 2015| Leave a Comment »
Find the time and space to look out a window.
Twilight grey rain falls lightly enough to dot the window panes.
Through the window, a pond, patterned by rain, ruffled by wind.
Trees downed over winter cleared space, the opening enclosed by newly leafing trees. Green, green lawn fills window to pond.
A squirrel seeks supper, dun-grey female cardinal does the same.
A piano piece, Comptine d’un autre été, plays in the background, notes rain down.
When you find that place, real or imagined, I will be there.
Confluence in the splendid, despondent, wholeness.
Never more myself.
It will be good to see you.
Posted in Reflections on the everyday, tagged time, transition on April 10, 2015| Leave a Comment »
What would you choose to do, if you knew you could not fail?
How would you spend moments, make memories, and move forward? What would you do?
Posted in Reflections on the everyday, tagged making bread, winter afternoons on February 28, 2015| Leave a Comment »
Outside cold, clear sun shines on snow. Half-way down the sky, angled light streams in a western window. This is when I make bread.
I sing to wake the yeast, wait until it foams, mix and stir by hand until shaggy. As the sun slides over my left shoulder I turn the dough out to knead.
Kneading bread takes some time, a little strength. After I got the cast off my broken wrist last year, kneading was painful, but helped me regain flexibility.
Somewhere in the kneading, time falls out, sun falls in. I work the prima materia. Iteration into simple, edible elegance.
Better bakers than me speak to the meditative quality of working a clump of ingredients into a smooth living form.
Like people, once worked, bread must rest to rise. Later, when hot and fresh, it will sidle up to thick-noodled chicken soup.
A little light on the subject, when sun comes in the window, I make bread.
Shouldn't...but Do 