Sunday, April 29, 2012


Sunday, April 29.  Ah, what mysteries unfold in this corner of the forest, lit by the golden light of a full moon?  The figures meet and perform the ritual, the trees and vines as witness to the dance.  It makes me sad to know that this work will soon be gone, an ephemeral piece of our City.


Saturday, April 28.  I think of Ito Jakuchu when I look at this.  The brilliant white cascade on the dark green leaves, and the little cream centers pushing out.  His brilliant work in The Colorful Realm has stayed with me in many ways, which I didn't even realize until I looked at this. 

Saturday, April 21, 2012


April 23, 2012.  Cherry petals covered the ground, illuminated by the soft morning sun.  I couldn't pass them by, and wanted to put my head to the ground.  New green grass poked up, wood chips from the path were erased, and the colors were radiant - all of them.  The trees were shedding their petals, and every breadth of wind sent more of them floating to the ground.  It is one of my favorite things in springtime New York.

Wednesday, April 18, 2012


April 15, 2012.  Cool yellow pansies, stretched out in a welcoming field.  To lay on them would crush them and ruin their joyous upturn.  But .... to lay on their green softness, yellow popping up by your ears and beneath your head, what would that feel like?  I shall not know.


April 14, 2012.  Of the many trees that were felled in the last storm to blow through Central Park, these without centers are most interesting to me.  The serrated edges surrounding the gaping maw are visually compelling, leaving the impression that they are the jagged teeth of some monster worm.  It waits and tempts you to place your hand into its middle - just empty space - but you cannot bring yourself to do it.


April 8, 2012.  What can be better on a sunny spring day than a kite in the sky?  It soars, it swoops, it flutters and then it stays up, working its way in the wind.  There are no trees to gobble at it, no telephone poles and wires, just sky against which your kite paints a spot of bright color.


April 1, 2012.   I baled hay on these fields, in the hot summer sun of July.  This land never looked so enticing to me, so inviting for further investigation.  It only ever looked like work.  The alfalfa and clover, as they grew, became ripe with the promise of long days sweating and burning, coolness only being found under the wagon, with a glass of Aunt Gert's cool aid and a square of cake.