Some things that you noticed today

I'm currently undergoing an experiment at my blog and in some of the entries, I'm just writing down things I notice in any given day. For instance, today I wrote that I noticed a bar of sunlight across the latch on my door.

I thought it would be nice to have a place where people could post things they notice in any given day. You do not have to even post a complete sentence.

It is a fundamental exercise in observing and in expressing the poetry of life.

When I look out my blinds I can see the windows of other houses; through the blinds' parallels, there seem to be massive bookcases in every house.

We had a party at work today. I made two kinds of cookies for the party and asked a colleague to set them out on a plate to serve. When I walked by the dessert table later, I noticed that my homemade cookies had been mostly covered by someone else's store-bought cookies.

Library books on display
reflected by the table
as it dreams of reading
more than just the cover.
But the purposeful racks
hold them proudly and securely
except for one empty rack
rejoicing in a job well done:
another treasure claimed.

Lily

I noticed it is very quiet when I have only one child at home with me. I thought I could use the silence to catch up on some reading, but it was very hard to read with him watching me so loudly. And then the cats came in the room...

We did our farmer's market shopping for the week this morning. Among other things, I bought a bunch of beets with enormously long, beautifully green and fresh leaves. I cooked some of the beet roots for dinner today, although I've never been particularly fond of the way beets taste. But they are such a beautiful deep, dense purple-red that the visual pleasure alone makes them worth eating. And the green tops with their red stalks are delicious in omelets.

margad, I really got a lot of sensory pleasure from reading about those beets. SqueakyChu: I like your detail about how the homemade cookies were covered by the store bought ones. There are deep implications there about heart, home, and love vs. commercialization. Jim: Wow. Love it. Waterlily: Very cool. My juggler: Yes, I have three children, now grown. I remember those days.

Yesterday I saw a hawk sitting on an electrical line that stretched across the road.

I don't know if you live in the town or in the country, Theresa, but I find it so reassuring to see hawks in my suburban area. Once when I was in the back yard, the usual bird noises went suddenly quiet and all the birds seemed to have disappeared. Then a hawk sliced through the air and landed in in the trees on the other side of our driveway.

Odd contrast.
Today the leaves on the tulip tree outside my window were a thousand hawks mid-flight, wind-billowed wings, feint outlines, dark, swarming in the distance, never approaching, just hovering, there, circling, waiting as if I would come to them, floating, terrible and expectant.

Oh, what a beautiful image! I usually hate wind, but I love your tree. All that menace - pinned to the earth by the tree's trunk so you could watch in safety.

Did anyone see the lunar eclipse? In Oregon, it was a total eclipse at around 3:30 a.m. Tuesday morning (in other words, early this morning, as I write this), in absolutely clear skies. I've seen eclipses before, but I don't remember ever seeing a total eclipse like this. After the last of the reflected sunlight slid away, the moon was still visible as an orangy globe. Looking at it through binoculars, I had a strong impression of its physical reality, because it looked so three-dimensional without the sun's strong light on it. It really looked like a dense, heavy, physical globe hanging up there in the sky with no visible means of support - a taste of what Galileo must have experienced when he first looked at the moon through his telescope.

#11: No, I didn't see it. Your description of it is excellent. Thank you!

#9

The words "tulip tree" seem unbelievably tender to me today.

The distance between me and the tulip tree is exactly proportionate to my amount of loneliness.

#14: That is what I thought. Not quiet loneliness. Terrible loneliness. You expressed it very well. Very.

I tried all day to make that feeling a poem. No dice. When I structure the image, it seems like I'm trying to be zany. But if I don't structure it, well, then I don't know what I'm doing...James Wright would know. He could build castles out of what wasn't there.

Let it stand as a prose poem for now. Write more. String them together and see what happens. What you are doing here and on your blog is powerful.

You're probably right, but I just feel absolutely lost in the realm of the prose poem. A lot of my favorite poets have tried them, and done well I think, but I just feel like I'm being lazy if I'm not putting line-breaks in. Silly, isn't it? But I feel that way. I like so much what the prose poem can do in terms of space: I think that the long line that minimizes white space can keep the reader involved, keep the reader's attention focused for longer, and so give the form the potential to explore surrealism and gestures that, were we given the white space as a pause, we might otherwise not believe, but I just don't feel comfortable in that realm. I'm irrational and squishy. What can I say?

#18 Jim, I know, but just let it stand for now. Something will occur later for what to do with it. Meanwhile, continue to catch these thoughts as they come to you. They're great.

I'm glad you started this topic; it lets me write down things without trying to make them poems. I don't write down so much because I can't make everything into a poem, and I've never gone back to an image or a line from the past and been able to make it into a successful poem. Maybe someday I'll be able to do that. In the meantime, it's grounding to just write down flashes of vision.

Jim, that's what I'm trying to do in my blog just now, just trying to catch glimpses. I may be able to work them in stories later. I was ready to give up the blog until I thought of doing that. I'm enjoying it. I'm also giving myself permission to write "bad poems" if I want to. Just write like a child does, with abandon. Sometimes I think too much.

If I'm not mistaken, I think I read somewhere that you've won some awards for your poems. Is there a place I can find these poems? I'd love to take a look.

I like what you're doing on your blog. I think too much most of the time, and the type of post you've been doing on your blog has reminded me how much I love the physical world. They're so grounded and gentle.

#22: Jim, I was a finalist for the Ginsberg Award ages and ages ago. In one of the reviews of my novel on Amazon, it says I won the award, but that is an error. My publisher had sent that mistaken information with the galley copies and then some of the reviewers used it. I made sure they got it right on the dustcover.

Somewhere along the line, I quit writing poems to focus on fiction. I have always loved stories. I'm not a natural storyteller so I don't tell stories, I make them (I think I got this saying from Richard Ford).

I started my prose from my practice of writing poems, though. That is why the novel turned out to be so condensed.

I will try to find the poem that was a finalist (on one of my shelves, but where!) and post it if you're really interested.

I'm definitely interested. You know, I missed Richard Ford in Baltimore this past spring: I really wish I'd gotten to hear him read. I heard he was stellar.

"Floating, terrible and expectant" would make a great closing line.

As a reader, I share the feeling about prose poems seeming somehow lazy and squishy. They feel unfinished to me. Line breaks force the reader to slow down and pay attention to each line as a separate thought. Poetry is a medium of such brevity, I think it should demand that the reader pay close attention.

#25
It's an interesting point you make about the prose poem speeding up the poem. I find most often that poems speed up when they're enjambed so that the line-breaks work against the syntactic flow, where a noun
reaches for its verb, etc.

I think you're right about the form lending itself to flatness, though. And this is likely what my problem is. I like a more vertically oriented line. But I also think the prose poems in Simic's The World Doesn't End, and poems like Forche's "The Colonel" are successful in ways that they might not be with line-breaks. The manipulation of white space can do a lot for the texture of a poem, and therefore influence mood in such a way that I'm more susceptible to being taken in. I think Whitman's long lines, and the big Whitmanic lines you see in C.K. Williams or David Kirby also show the variety of effects minimal margins can have.

JMatthews-I love your imagery with the tulip tree.

Today I noticed the goldfinches hanging upside down from our sunflowers, picking ripe seed. Some are so heavy with seed they bend to the ground even as their brother-flowers reach skyward. They are not as sturdy as Jack's beanstalk, but much prettier.

I also noticed a box this morning, lonely in the middle of the street. I think it escaped the recycling truck. I wonder if it hoped for a better life, not understanding the risk of its impetuous action. I picked it up before a car could crush it, but it is heading back to a recycling bin.

About 4:00am this morning, I looked out my bedroom window & saw drifts of snow spread about the ground. Snow! wait a minute, it's August, the night's buzzing with the chorus of 10,000 insects & the breeze is warm against my face. I look closer. No, there's not that crisp even surface that snow takes on. These are hap-hazard drifts, like someone has walked thru the yard with a giant can of "Reddy-whip" & sprayed it wherever he pleased. And the moon. So bright, the 1-day-past-full corn moon of late summer. It's the moon that's shining on the garden, reflecting bright ness back to the sky. But those drifts of white -- yes, they're moving ever so gently. Like something is breathing on them. Mists. That's what I'm seeing. Drifts of mists, slightly swirling & reflecting moonlight just bright enough to fool someone into thinking they had awakened into a whole new season.

This morning, around 5.30am, I walked face first into a mess of yellowjackets that had gathered around my back porch light. It was still dark outside, but they were quite busy, at what I'm still not sure.

Only one managed to get into the house when I opened the screen door to see my husband off to work. My son found it later, wobbling across the dining room table, apparently chilled by the indoor air conditioning. I gave it a swift and satisfying whack with my flyswatter.

He now sits outside in my trash can waiting for the garbage men to come haul him away.

It's that time of year when I'm getting to work just as the sun begins turning the river pink outside my window ...

#26: Ah, I just spoke about Prose Poems on another thread at this group. I said that as a boundary-dweller, I love them, and that there's a lovely publication called SEEMS that is dedicated to them.

Often poetry does read faster for me than prose. But, heavens, I am slow in whatever I read! Shakespeare's plays would be impossible, wouldn't they, without the wonderful way they are presented. The lines are such fun to read.

Can you imagine Pound's cantos as prose poems! Ack! Or Hart Crane's "Chaplinesque"? Yes, clearly there are times for white space and line breaks.

But sometimes, a condensed idea just wants to prose. Forche's "The Colonel"--great example.

#30 You have a river outside your window? Mercy! A city river or a country river? (If that makes sense.) (smiles)

I may have to slightly revise my negative opinion of prose poems. Everyone is posting such lovely prose poems on this topic thread - and it seems the perfect form for this medium. Theresa - you may have to slightly revise your negative opinion of online mediums in order to accommodate the phenomenon you have started here!

#33: I'm all for revising opinions (smiles)! The works on this thread are wonderful, aren't they? I want to say more about them when I have more time. It's been a busy week at the university.

PS: I will be going to Big Sur from Sept. 6-14 to teach creative writing workshops and may not be able to post here for a while. I am hoping everyone will carry on!

Once a lover gave me a tanned leather bag. Today it was hot, and I met new people. In the heat, the bag I carried turned my new shirt yellow.

I carry a broad-shouldered white flask with a silver top. When it is empty, it sometimes looks like an angel.

I am not sure the post-man delivers to my address.

A Reason: when I dictate my good-bye note in my head, I always want to revise it.

Death. We had a death in the family today. It was expected. But all the tension that goes into the wait, once expelled at the time of the death, just leaves a black hole.

I love that one about the leather bag staining the shirt. How eerily appropriate.

#27: the goldfinches hanging upside down. That's very powerful. It seems to be very meaningful.

#29

Your observation reminds me a bit of mine from earlier that I posted elsewhere:

When I was little
I went into a house my
father was building.
I rocked in a little
red rocking chair he had
made me. On the
back of the chair
my father had painted
my name. I rocked very
fast. As I rocked, I hit
an empty box with my
feet. Soon I felt a terrible
pain and saw a bee climbing
slowly down into the box.
I cried as my father put
chewing tobacco over the
poison. He told me the
bee would die now because
he had planted his stinger
in me. A wasp can sting over
and over and still live, he said,
but not bees. I thought of
the bee climbing into the
darkness of the box to die,
and I was glad.

#32: It's definitely a city river ... the Detroit River, in fact ... it just goes to show that, in the right light, almost anything can be beautiful!

Low clouds, distant thunder, rain falling as i float face-up in a pool, girl with a quiet baby, hoot signals of young gang members, scent of pot drifting across water . . .

What an absolutely lovely idea.

This morning I saw bright red, ripe apples on my neighbor's tree. Earlier I watched as the tree got its leaves, then watched the blossoming and bees.

I can see the west neighbor's trees in his backyard from my bedroom window. My west neighbor does not like the squirrels that live in our area (another neighbor in the east direction feeds squirrels!).

My west neighbor sets a trap for squirrels in one of the other trees in his back yard. The squirrels come over the wires, down the branches, walk around the trap, shake their bushy tails, and walk back up the branches, and over the wires to home.

It is highly entertaining to watch.

Doré

#43: I know what you mean. Not so long ago, I spent two months on the Ohio River. Sometimes it looked filthy; sometimes it lived up to its name: Beautiful River.

#44: What lovely observations and writing.

#45: Goes to show you don't have to travel far to see miraculous things. Beautifully rendered, thank you.

Just now I saw a (wild) scrub turkey fossicking in my yard, clawing the mulch into a furious arc in search of food.

"Fossicking"? What a great word!

Here is the definition of fossick on TheFreeDictionary.com

v. fos·sicked, fos·sick·ing, fos·sicks Australian
v.intr.
1. To search for gold, especially by reworking washings or waste piles.
2. To rummage or search around, especially for a possible profit.
v.tr.
To search for by or as if by rummaging.

I noticed rain clouds as I walked out this evening. Thirty-one straight days of heat over 90 degrees bur it did not rain very much.

#51: Ah, I've been 'sprung' as an Aussie! I didn't
realise 'fossick' was a particularly Aussie term - it's in common use down here. Thanks for the info, xenchu.

Theresa, I love this thread! Everyone has such interesting observations.
Today I noticed that no one else on the road notices me when I drive in the city (NY). I'm sure I'm still here, because my heart was pounding pretty hard against my ribs when that SUV slid in front of me. Of course, I'm sure my hands had disappeared as they held the steering wheel in a death grip and I could no longer feel them. If I'm invisible, should I use my power for good...
or evil?

If I walk long enough, I forget I'm walking.

Darkness is often the best light in which to see things.

With a big enough magnifying glass, every period would be a planet.

I could pick up spare change writing fortune cookies.

53: Perhaps a Robin Hood-type role? :-)

55: You've given me something to think about.

I like to cook and love the beauty of food.

I tend to have white dishes to better show the beauty of food.

Perhaps my favorite breakfast is plain yogurt mixed with cottage cheese and topped with fresh raspberries. It's served in a small, white bowl. Other family members, seeing this combination, come to a full stop, and say, "How pretty."

They don't care for the yogurt and cottage cheese combination, but we sometimes combine raspberries and chocolate with vanilla ice cream. Mixed together, the combination isn't quite as pretty, but it certainly is tasty.

Doré

I rarely travel without a book. Today I quickly grabbed one before dashing out the door to my audiologists’s office. Having a book I like with me makes the waiting time go much more quickly.

After my audiologist appointment, I hurried over to my synagogue to pick up two bags of donated books. I offered to transport these to my local Friends of the Library used book store, an addicting place which not only loses me in its stacks but also recycles old books into money for library use.

Upon arriving home after my trip to the used book store, I noticed my original book was missing.

>60 SqueakyChu: That sounds like the perfect beginning to a very good story.

--> 60

It's funny you say that. I've been so impressed with this thread that I've been using some of the ideas expressed here as starting points for creative writing exercises I've been doing just for fun with a close friend of mine. My friend is a great writer, and I'm trying to encourage her to write more. I'm not a writer, but I'm going to try some creative writing.

"Everything looks perfect from far away." - The Postal Service

Making a free website is pretty easy until the whole thing crashes and you have to start all over. -Frustrated Author

Here is the new beginning: http://theresawilliams.ourprofile.us/

Hearing rain on the tin roof inspires memories of a bush childhood.

Ah, rain on a tin roof!

When I was young, I lived for two and a half years in a quonset hut on Guam. Guam has a short rainy season followed by an extended dry season. I have seen it rain every day for more than two weeks running. The sound of the rain beating all over that quonset hut made it feel really cozy.

re 65 and 66

Ah, memories of rain, sights, and sounds!

When I was a child, our family sometimes camped in a historical log cabin. The roofing somehow over-lapped at the top, but looking up from a cot, one could see stars overhead, but it never rained inside.

Another camping stop was a cabin on a Gulf of Mexico island. Most of the walls were are least half screen with shutters that folded back. Afternoon rests with a breeze blowing through the screens
has to be one of the most pleasant sounds in the world.

Another camping spot was a family hunting lease in a pecan orchard. The fireflies flying among the trees was a delightful sight.

Doré

re 64

Hi,, Theresa,

Sorry to hear about the crash, but the new beginning looks good.

That's the way I feel about things in general and computers in particular. They are fine and wonderful as long as they work, but when they crash, things can be very difficult for a while.

Thank you for starting this thread and this site.

Doré

My husband's mother died last week and I noticed he has been bothered more than either of us expected. She had lung cancer, and it was a terrible death. She was a life-time smoker. So is my husband's dad. He has lung cancer, too. He was supposed to die first. I notice it often doesn't work that way. The same thing happened with my mother and brother. The both had cancer. My brother was supposed to die first, but my mother died first. None of us were ready for that. I have noticed that life is that way more than not, but we are still surprised.

I am noticing that the closer my trip to Big Sur gets the more unreal it seems that I am really going. I keep putting off things that need to be done, and we are leaving on Thursday morning!

I am noticing that people are posting messages about sound more than I expected them to. It's nice.

I am also noticing a lot more humor than I expected, which is also nice! And more participation than I expected, which is the bestest thing of all!

Asphalt shimmering in heat, abandoned tennis courts, arctic blast at the market, artesian wells sliding down my throat, a long walk home . . .

NativeRoses, how far must you insert the well before it begins to slide on its own?

lol - artesian wells spring water, and only across the tongue ;-)

#53 Juggling Paynes - I'm captivated by your power of invisibility, and hope you will use it for good! Do tell us some ideas on how you might do that.

Enjoyed your website, Theresa. Your opening paragraph for Blue Velvis is brilliant.

My father was convinced my mother would die first. When he spoke to me about his will, I could see he was steeling himself for a deeply dreaded inevitability. Her family has a history of heart disease, whereas his heart just seemed to get stronger the more fatty sausage, fried bologna, etc. that he ate. But he died in 2002, and my mother is still chugging along quite well. She considers it her last gift to him.

#77-Unfortunately, my powers do not seem to work on those little cameras they stick at some traffic lights in the city, so I guess I will have to pay the fine for the quick changing yellow light AND I won't get to the kids' classes on time. *sigh*

Ah well, there is still time to learn how to use that thing on my steering wheel, what do you call it? A horn. I just noticed I have one. Hopefully it will prevent anyone from running into me the next time I turn invisible.

Theresa-I also enjoyed your website. The story about your mother is powerful.

Today I heard currawongs calling and I was instantly transported to the rainforest.

#80 Inner artist

Please tell us what the currawongs sound like. Their name sounds like something that would live in a rain forest. Are they common where you live?

To the west an orange stripe opens the night sky.

When shopping for potted asters at a flower stand, I wondered why most of the the butterflies seemed to prefer one or two plants over the rest.

Reclining day laborers calling 'Hey gorgeous!' and holding up 1, 2 or 3 fingers as i cruise past spindly trees dwarfed by a HomeDepot.

I noticed my uncle's hands after he fell asleep on the couch when I walked through the room looking for my keys. He had come in for lunch and a break from building fences in the heat. The dirt was caked into the lines and creases on his hands. Little black spider webs on his red skin.

#81 MarianV:
This is the pied currawong, a bird which is found in forests in eastern Australia, including rainforests. Like some (but certainly not all) of our other native fauna, such as possums and scrub turkeys, they seem to thrive in suburbia and they are quite common here (I’m only 10 minutes from the centre of Brisbane, a city of around 1 million people). Their name reflects the sound they make: a musical ‘curra-wong’, or ‘curra-war-curra-wong’ when on the wing. Probably their name originated in one of the Aboriginal languages, although I’m not sure about that. Much of our flora is named with the Aboriginal names given to them by certain tribes, usually describing a feature or habit of the animal (there are many different Aboriginal languages). Pied currawongs are black birds, similar in size and appearance to a crow, with white tips on their tails, white patches on their undertail and also a white patch underwing. The musical sound they make somewhat belies their appearance - one would expect them to make a harsher sound, but perhaps that simply arises from the fact that they look like a crow. As they are common in the rainforest and sounds in the rainforest seem to be heightened, it always gives me a thrill to hear one calling as it reminds me of the joy and peace I find in being in the rainforest. We have areas of rainforest within a very short distance of Brisbane.

Today I experienced a thrill of pleasure as I felt the fallen jacaranda leaves crunching under my feet, anticipating imminent clouds of vivid lavendar blue scattered amongst the green. Spring is here!

Love your uncle's hands, frogbelly.

We have rainforests here in the U.S. Pacific Northwest, too. Our rainforest birds are rather quiet. I love the silence and the mosses best, and the green light.

Really COLD water came out of the tap this morning with the change in the weather. It was bracing!

#80 and #81 - There are several sites on the Net which permit one to listen to the recordings of pied currawongs, but I'm awaiting my husband's assistance in helping me to open them (I need the Quick Time Control add-on, apparently)

http://www.birdsinbackyards.net/feature/top-40-bird-songs.cfm

http://www.anbg.gov.au/anbg/birds.html

http://www.abc.net.au/archives/av/birds.htm

I woke up suddenly to find light breaking through the blinds in my bedroom. The light feel across my body and I looked like I was glowing.

I wish I could say I did something grand and inspiring there, but I rolled over and cursed the night time construction crew working on the freeway which is outside my window.

#90: LOL, very good! You had me going there. You gave me a good laugh.

I noticed that the soft indentation in my lawn
Which had become a sunken rounded spot
Which had opened a hole as nice as any in Hobbiton
And is not the entrance to Wonderland
Is the work of a most industrious beast
Whose work ethic is better than the crews
Who dig up the streets around my neighborhood
I just hope the groundhog stays in the yard
And doesn't move closer to the house.

Tiny orange butterflies on the
ground in the wet part of a ditch

taking the train along the south coast tonight, seeing the moonlight reflected on the sea.

There were way more bumblebees on my sedum than there were honeybees.

My dept. at the university encouraged us to join Facebook as a way of keeping contact with our students, past and present. I spent some time setting up my profile, although I didn't feel very well. After I'd finished, I picked up a blue notebook that I'd written in over the summer; it was full of notes toward a new story I want to write. I'd forgotten I'd written such copious notes. I read through the notes and took the notebook with me to my bath. When I lowered myself into the warm water, all kinds of ideas came to me for how to shape the story better. I scrawled in the notebook with my pencil for some time. I noticed, again, how much a warm bath facilitates my writing.

Listening to Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker Ballet, the Grandfather Dance, and my cat itching her ear in perfect time with the percussion.

LOL!

#97
Yes, LOL, I would love to see that in a movie.

What a beautiful sunset this last day of September! The sky is streaked with cirrus clouds & they are all different shades of pink. Pink & blue -- the sky is the color of a baby blanket.

A beautiful orange and black butterfly exploring a pile of dog poop.

Today, while walking in a state park, I noticed the dry rasping sound made by tall grass as the wind blew through it.

#101: LOL! A new and unexplored side of butterflies!

In a fine arts and crafts store, there was a black iron sculpture of a snake I knew would appeal to my son.

I noticed over the weekend that instead of flinging open the blinds in the morning to allow the winter sun to stream in to warm and brighten the house, I now need to leave them closed to keep out the sudden summer heat (although it's still officially spring for another 2 months).

#104 - You must be down under! Here in Oregon, we have been taking winter measures for the first time these last few days, setting the thermostat on its winter schedule, wearing sweaters, thinking about bringing some of the potted plants back inside.

Yes, margad, in Ohio, too, I am anticipating Fall coming into complete being. Already we see leaves on the ground, but the temps are still a little warm in the daytime (for me). Nights chill down quickly, though. I wore a jacket for the first time on Saturday night while my husband and I sat by the river and ate our supper.

I looked at the blue sky of October, the shimmering of the lake, the people in the tram and was happy.

During a walk through my neighborhood, I noticed the
industriousness of my neighbors who were already raking their lawns while I was just thinking about it.

#108 LOL!

#107 Lovely. I love those happy moments.

Today I enjoyed standing in the rain without an umbrella. I was waiting for my husband to pick me up at the university. All around me, people were walking about with umbrellas. It was a soft rain. I felt my hair respond, getting thicker and fuller. I have very curly hair which responds that way to humidity. I couldn't help but thinking that the umbrella people were missing out on something. The rain was very cool on my skin. It made me feel alive.

I've noticed again recently the amazing kindness and strength of my beautiful 93 year-old mother-in-law, Laura, (who lost her whole family - husband and 2 sons - in a 4 year period over 25 years ago) since she's been in hospital this past couple of weeks, the first time she's been in hospital in her life except to give birth to her sons. For instance, she's worried about the cost of the petrol that my sister-in-law and I have been using to come and visit her and she seems concerned about causing us any inconvenience, although we love to be able to do something for her as she's always been very independent and very generous to us. She's also very naughty, going for walks by herself in the hospital corridor when she knows she's supposed to have a nurse with her. It seems to give her the greatest satisfaction and delight to tell us about it when we come to visit, in fact, I catch glimpses of her as a (naughty!) young girl again when she's telling us about her 'escapades'.

#109 Theresa, I never carry an umbrella, especially in warm weather. I like the feel of rain too!

#110 She sounds like a basis for a great character in a story.

#111 I'm glad I'm not the only one!

When I was a young lad on Guam I learned the subtle art of dodging raindrops. As I grew older I became more proficient. Now I don't do anything to avoid rain, no raincoats, no hats, no bumbershoots, nothing but dodge raindrops. People that have seen me do it are amazed and left agape.

#113 --geneg's superpower, dodging raindrops!

#109 and its followups regarding umbrellas.

Reminds me of a girlfriend I had once (who I've never gotten over and never will). We got together a few years ago (several years post-dating) in Boston, in the middle of a snowstorm. We were supposed to meet outside a coffee shop, and I was early, and she was late, and I was so nervous I stood outside in the snow chainsmoking until she arrived.
She was carrying an umbrella - I think only Koreans carry umbrellas in the snow, but there you go - and fussed over me, with my hair full of snowflakes. We had our coffee and went for a walk, and she kept trying to make me walk under the umbrella, and I kept trying to convince her that I was fine.
And I guess if I've ever loved anyone, I loved her.

I noticed that it is finally starting to get cool here (NC). It is finally nice to be outdoors.

#115--What an absolutely beautiful story. I love it. It could be expanded into something "finished" and very, very fine.

#116--I know what you mean about NC. Sometimes it's uncomfortably warm, even at Thanksgiving. Getting any form of relief feels like a miracle.

#115 - love your umbrella story. Sometimes an argument can be so caring!

I smelt the smoke of a wood fire on a misty morning. Autumn is here.

Today I noticed that the wild wine on the fence had turned to a bright red. I smiled.

RE: #112 - 1st message: But sadly, I'm not a writer....... ..just immensely inspired and stimulated by the quality of the discussions on the Art is Life group, and enjoying them very much whenever I get the opportunity to visit. Reading the discussions on Art is Life makes me wish I WERE a writer (sigh).

Writers are always cheered to know there are readers out there who appreciate us! What a mess we would be in if there were only writers and no readers.

#121: Do you keep a journal or a diary or a blog? You can write about her there. I think the impulse to tell stories is innate; we're all writers in a sense. It's such a sweet beginning that you should write it down somewhere. Write the story and make greeting cards for your friends and family using the story: I've always wanted to do that.

#122, It wouldn't be nearly so bad if there were readers and no writers.

I noticed with regret today that a dense grove of stately old trees in my neighborhood disappeared. In its place was an excavated lot of brown, crusty, dry earth. Along the edge of this space were piles of huge logs that had recently been the trunks of those beautiful trees. Facing me was a sign importantly declaring that soon an office building would be standing in that very lot. :-(

Awww, SqueakyChu, I'm so sorry. I'm a tree hugging, card carrying member of the Arbor Day Foundation. I know how you feel.
Today I noticed that our oak tree has dropped a lot more acorns than I thought. The squirrels won't starve this winter.

I really feel bad for our planet in general and my neighborhood in particular. At least when the city cut down our old elm tree, they planted a pin oak in its place. However, the site of the old grove of trees is just getting an office building. :-(

We are simply destoying this earth!!!

The Lorax (Dr. Suess) was right!

Geneg - yes, it would be awful if there were no writers. My whole life would have been totally different, bereft!

It would be worse to have no trees, though. That would really send me into a state of Kirkegaardian despair. If only I could wave a wand and bring your trees back, Squeaky. We have too many office buildings in this world already.

I noticed as I lack the ability to sleep the night through, I saw how peaceful and worry-free my children look as they sleep. I just lightly hugged them both and whisphered in their ears that I love them and cryed at how they hear me with a grip of hand but not wake up. I'm sorry so sappy but the love and saddness I'm going through I just hold on to those special moments.

I notice the way people look at environmental issues and it frustrates me somewhat. Many people don't care what we do to the earth, and, indeed, we, short of blowing the earth into a shower of various sized rocks, really can't harm the earth. What we can do is change the nature of that very thin sliver of conditions that allow for life to exist as we know it, including ourselves on earth.

We must shift our focus from what we are doing to the earth, to what we are doing to our home. If you tell someone they are destroying their home they may pay more attention.

The earth doesn't care whether we are here or not. It doesn't care if the oceans freeze and the clouds come crashing down in sheets of ice. It doesn't care if the whole thing burns and becomes a wasteland of rock with no atmosphere. The earth doesn't care. We are the ones who should care.

I know this was a cheap chance to make a point, but hey, I've noticed you take your shots when they present themselves.

When I awoke in the wee morning hours, the room was stuffy so I slid the window open. Along with a whiff of cool air came the sound of coyotes howling from the edge of the quarry bank. Coyotes howl in a slightly higher register than dogs & they also like to add a few high-pitched yip-yip-yips. I have never seen any coyotes but the quarry workers say they look like golden retrievers with tails like foxes & if they feel like it, they will walk around the workers' parked trucks, sniffing the ground for dropped bits of left-over lunches. A bit of the wild west here in northern Ohio.

I woke up this morning gasping for breath because of my asthma. This attracted my attention.

Today we were going for a Sunday countryside drive and I showed to my friend a mountain road I had taken fifteen years ago for work in the morning and evening. The speed radar had been removed, new houses covered the mountainside looking over the lake, and the small curvy road through orchards going down to the east had been replaced by a wide, well built, fast part. I thought, that our memories of our adult years work like our chilhood memories, things have been much biger in our past, as they seem to be now.

I noticed that an unusually warm autumn has caused my rosebush to bloom in October. A white rose lifts its head to the sun with a soft blush of pink coloring the center of the petals. It's either embarrassed to be out so late...or so early.

I noticed the spent echinacea blooms by my front door, sodden with rain and black as though they had been torched.

Last night, while I was lying in bed trying to get to sleep, my cat settled herself on my chest. Chin brushing chin, body curled between breasts, tail on stomach, she purred for awhile and then slept.

I know I'm young yet, but when she does that, all I can do is wish I had a child.

#136-I love your description. It makes me want to cuddle my cats and my children.

In the dark before the dawn, I noticed the bass sound of a freight train horn, very much like a bullfrog, repetitive and monotone. Then I noticed the whistle whinnying voice of a screech owl in a tree by my window, answering the horn. Eventually, the screech owl flew off, drawn by the sound of a fire truck siren.

I noticed/experienced/am grateful for kindness. Since Saturday most of my time has been spent at Kaiser Hospital Walnut Creek, CA. In the emergency room a young man went out of his way to get me hot water and tea bag (I was cold, but he said he couldn't fulfill my request for hot shower). The rest of this week in the main halls I have been helped several times by a janitor (who found me, even after I'd told him the wrong room number, bringing me a coat hanger for my wet coat). This morning a server in the restaurant, where I had gotten French toast, surprised me by coming to the table, and, with a wink, putting down a pancake (because I'd noticed one after I'd ordered/paid for my French toast). More. . . .all who have smiled at me, turned me around when I was walking in wrong direction, and the night nurse who is going to join LibraryThing. Esta1923

I noticed that humor makes any topic taught more readily understood.

Little things can be so important sometimes. May everything turn out well, Esta!

Esta, thank you for your beautiful post. I believe in these "small" kindnesses. When they come our way, they have the power to lift us up. You come near bursting into tears sometimes over "little" things like this, which, as it turns out, aren't so "little." Best wishes to you, Esta.

#35: what a jolting detail. Very strong, margad. I felt that one in the pit of my stomach.

This is about noticing in general. A little piece of bad, ooooh so bad poetry, my muse dropped on me the other night.

I cannot know Him
Yet He is everything I know.
I cannot see Him
Yet He is everything I see.
I cannot hear Him
Yet He is everything I hear.
I cannot touch Him
Yet He is everything I touch.
I cannot taste Him
Yet He is everything I taste.
I cannot smell Him
Yet He is everything I smell.
I cannot be Him
Yet He is everything I am.

Ah, what a delightful experience reading these! Moments captured in time, fresh and vivid. Thank you all so very much (and Theresa for inviting me to this group!)

This reminds me much of the time I spent writing haiku...I hope this thread never ends.

ok, it was yesterday, but worth mentioning:

i have been going to this one park near here for years, and a couple of October's back, I realized the pair of bald headed eagles that return each year not only return at around the same time each fall, but they also fly around at about the same time each day during their stay here. Yesterday, i got to watch the eagle fly close enough that i could take my binoculars off him and still see his eyes. Then he banked, turned west along the river, and floated on the breeze to his perch more than a quarter mile upstream. and, having seen him these past 4, now 5 octobers, i knew he'd be perched in that tree the next few hours, so i took my fill of watching him watch the river for a moment before turning back on the path and heading along my way.

or her eyes. i still can't tell which is which. but yeah, it's a great way to spend a few minutes over lunchtime.

You told us you were not a writer, geneg, you sly dog. Very nice poem!

Eagles - Hildegard of Bingen talks about eagles, too. I'll have to hunt up the vision where she mentions them, so I can get the image right.

geneg: thank you so much for sharing your poem...however, I am unhappy that you did not reveal to us who your muse is! I am forever intrigued by the concept of the muse!

I like it, your poem.

#146: I think to see a creature's eyes like that is tantamount to a mystical experience. Thanks for sharing that.

A bit rambling but it really hit hard.

Sitting across the table from my grandfather, who's getting old enough that every time I see him may be the last time. He was staring at me - we have nearly the same eyes, clear and blue, mine a bit darker - but I was looking at him and thinking, "This is where I come from." And he stares and stares, and says, "Maria, you look..." and he stops, like he can't find the word. "You look like you're enjoying yourself." And it meant so much, more than he could have realized. He hit it right on. For the first time since I was little and he was holding me upside down so I could walk on the ceiling... I am enjoying myself.

#150 - that is beautiful, wow.

Flying home, there is a short rainstorm and some turbulence. Then we come out of the clouds and I look out the window...a perfect circle rainbow shines huge and perfect in the sky. I tell the stranger next to me and he gasps, leaning over me to be able to see the full thing. In less than 60 seconds, it is gone without a trace. Incredible.

Ambushed, you must have a wonderful bond with your grandfather. What a beautiful passage - it could be the opening paragraph of a memoir. Or a novel.

Villandry, I've never seen a circle rainbow, but that kind of experience is why I've always loved flying. Once, flying to Europe, we were over Greenland during daylight. I couldn't get enough of the jagged, gray, glacier-filled peaks; they were like no landscape I had ever seen before. And now these experiences are tinged with guilt over the amount of carbon the planes are putting into the atmosphere. In a weird way, it makes these experiences more precious.

The woman behind the counter did not put onions on my hotdog. She said she did, but she didn't.

I notice my nail polish that is now chipped off, some of my nails only half covered by this redness. And I always think of how I make a promise that this time I will remove the polish once it begins to chip - but yet I never ever do.

I was very excited when my son announced he was going to Israel for three weeks. He'll get to know my family, I thought. I very carefully sent notice to my relatives that he was coming. Home hospitality had been immediately forthcoming. Upon my son's return, I eagerly sat through his photo display. Hmm? Where were the pictures of my Israeli family?!

Apparently, we're having a serious drought here. I had no idea, as I make a half-hearted attempt to remain disconnected as I possibly can from what is going on in the world today. Having learned of the situation, I decided to cut back my daily bathing time from some odd 45 minutes to roughly 30.

I think at some point in everyone's life, they're told they ought to be President someday. A close friend of mine's father already informed me of this, so there's need for anyone else to tell me that I ought to be President.

As I grow older, the whole concept of "democracy" seems less and less appealing. Some of us really ought to be making as few choices as humanly possible.

My daughter doesn't seem that different to me today despite being on much less medication for her ADHD. She said "bye" to our dog this morning before running out to catch the school bus. She said it to him through the sliding screen door, so he could hear her. I could tell that she wanted to pet him, but I was rushing her as usual. I'm hoping the pimple on her face is not a sign of stress, but I'm sure it is.

Two of my rose bushes still have buds on.

#152 - margad, you've summed up my feelings everytime I get on an airplane. Which is often these days. So I try to enjoy the feeling of looking down on the world which is so very different from being right there in the middle of it. Greenland sounds incredible. I flew over the northern edges of Alaska once on the way to Thailand...it was like looking at a different planet.

...went for a walk this morning and there was a massive iguana on the grass beside the lake. It was shining silver in the morning sun and just as still as a statue. It was huge! and looked like a dragon. Cars were zipping by and I felt as if I were the only one who could see it.

The smell of spilled coffee in my car this morning somehow comforted me. Instead of being upset by the cup tipping over, I allowed my nose to lead my thoughts to a positive place.

The appearance of the engine light did not alarm me, but it did warn me of impending danger.

With my fuel gauge near empty and the engine light obnoxiously yellow, I pulled into a service station where none of the customers seemed aware of their surroundings. They were absorbed in their isolated reality - as if handcuffed to handheld devices like prisoners in a curious cocoon of communication.

I asked the attendant if he could help me. My cell phone then vibrated in my pocket, causing a quick jolt to my system. I motioned to him that I would be right with him. He smiled and nodded his head, knowingly.

Coffee and cell phones - he understood my addiction.

This morning while eating breakfast, I noticed that I don't like cream cheese.

# 161: really big LOL!!!

I noticed, once again, that the small town where I live is being overrun by new developments. Large ugly overpriced houses built almost on top of each other. They will be bought by yuppies looking for a quiet beautiful place to live. They ought to change the name of this place to Ironyville.

Thousands of Mexican free-tailed bats flying out to feed in early evening from under a long concrete bridge where they spend the day napping.

The moon is incredibly bright tonight, casting deep shadows...and I wouldn't have noticed but my 17yo daughter told me to come see.

there is something profoundly humbling about being on a rainy beach at sunrise. The light makes it through the clouds and the dimensions all shift around....beautiful.

I noticed the rain bead on my arms as I ran to the library. We are in the middle of a drought here and this is the first hard rain we have had in months. It was worth getting soaked to watch the rain come down.

I noticed a long time ago that I love the rain. I still love the rain, and especially the smell of the clean air afterwards.

I love the rain, too, but it's sunny and windy here today. The bigleaf maple tree outside my window is hanging tight to its gold-brown leaves, but they are straining to let go and whirl off into the blue sky.

The trees that surround our little back yard are gradually losing their leaves. Last night, enough leaves had fallen from the top branches so that I was able to look out my bedroom window & see the full hunter's moon, completely encircled by a ring of cirrus clouds. It shone so brightly through the interlaced branches that sparkles of silver were reflected on the fallen leaves that were lying on the ground.

Oooh, love that moon Marian!

Deliveries on my way into work - 17 UPS trucks rumbling towards me as i followed 4 full school buses.

I saw an ant on the left lens of my eyeglasses, but it turned out to be a floater in my left eye.

Robert

Barely thirty-six hours after going from Daylight Saving to Standard time the temperature here fell almost twenty degrees.

This morning a pair of bald eagles were hunting on the small lake where I walk. The were so massive and beautiful, I think I watched them for an hour.

Massive - what a wonderfully descriptive word. I could really see those eagles.

Just now, as I was looking out of the kitchen window at my wild garden, which is looking lush and vivid green after some much-needed rain, I noticed that my rainbow-coloured fish wind sock had sprouted, between the red ribbons at the bottom, a bushy grey curled tail and one tiny limb. A brushtail possum must have decided at dawn today that a psychedelic bedroom might be just the place to sleep away the day!

......and just after dusk tonight I saw that my possum, a half-grown juvenile which had probably not long ago left its mother's care, had emerged from its colourful 'tent' and was up in the highest branches of my jacaranda tree happily munching on some flowers. I wonder if it will return to my rainbow fish tomorrow at dawn.

Today I noticed the bright butter yellow maple leaves fluttering against the gray clouds that bubbled out from the lake.

The state police barracks parking lot yesterday morning: fifteen police cars, one Pepsi truck.

#181: LOL!

181> Ha - That brings to mind yesterday: five police cars chasing down some dumbass who decided to rob a bank and was now booking through a field behind our office building with a big sack of money. In spite of a diligent lunchtime search, no one in my office found the sack the thief dropped. (or at least no one admitted to it)

Then last night there were more flashing blues in my apartment complex as a different (i hope) thief abandoned a stolen car and took off on foot through the buildings.

Ahhh, there's nothing like increased crime levels to let you know Christmas is right around the corner.

re 179

Oh, do you have a jacranda tree that is blooming?
That's wonderful!

I love the canopy of those trees as well as their blooms.

To my regret, the jacaranda tree does not grow where I live.

We are approaching winter here, but as the weather people say, "We're in yo-yo format."
We have several days in the high 60's or low 70's, followed by a couple of days in the 20's and 30's, then we're back to the highs again.

Makes choosing clothing interesting!

This isn't something I noticed today, but rather something I've been thinking about today:

My great aunt, who died a few years back, was president of the National Polka Society, and my summers as a child sparkled with polka parties.

At one of these parties, when I was two or three, there was a cousin - or second-cousin, or something, one of my mother's cousin's daughters - with the prettiest shoes. They were shiny red patent leather Mary Janes. My brother, who was usually my constant companion, was off learning shuffleboard from another cousin, so I spent the afternoon with this beautiful, wonderful, amazing big girl (she was perhaps six) with the bright red shoes. I begged my parents for shoes like that, and always loved looking at the photograph of us together. I wanted to be just like her.

What I didn't know then, but do know now, is that Jeannie was what's known as a "crack baby." Her mother died a few years later, in prison, of heroin withdrawl. Jeannie lives in a home for mentally retarded adults, and my grandparents get Christmas cards with pictures every year.

Jeannie doesn't look like the pretty girl with the red shoes anymore - and I would never, ever want to be "like her." But it's kind of nice, I think, that once, when I was little and didn't know any better, I did.

It's so nice that someone admired her! I wonder if that admiration changed her life in a small way, made it a little bit sweeter and brighter forever.

#185 - that story is like pure poetry... thank you!

I heard a weird noise, went to the window, and saw a couple kids furtively picking up stones from a walkway. Half-indignant, thinking they might have just thrown a rock at my window in broad daylight, and half just curious about why they were looking so nervous, I watched.

They spent a good five minutes surreptitiously picking up stones and putting them into their pockets, looking around, bending down, straightening up quickly. Finally their pockets were full, and they went into the driveway, looked over their shoulders, and then began throwing handfuls of stones at the dumpster.

It made a very satisfying PING! with every stone that hit it.

And then, I think, their parents came out of the shop downstairs and caught them at it.

driving up I70 west from Denver yesterday, the new dusting of snow was whitest white against the mountains and streams along the highway made this fabulous, rich and scene. It was a world turned to brown and white. Sepia photograph-like. It felt like I was driving in a hallucination of some sort... I had no idea how many shades of brown there are.

Perhaps it was the contrast in my own eyes, coming from the green green of Florida. I am still wondering around in a daze... or maybe that's the lack of oxygen, altitude and all.

Alright. I don't think I can explain this right, but I witnessed the strangest "trick of the light" type of thing today.

So a church on Main Street has a life-sized Nativity scene out (I'm protesting because the Wise Men and Baby Jesus are already in place, when they shouldn't be, but hell, we can't all be Catholic).

It's been snowing all day, and I was at the bank across the street from the church, and I swear I saw one of the Wise Men using a broom to wipe snow off of Mary.

In fact, of course, someone was just wiping snow off of the scene - and happened to have his hand in the exact right place so that, from where I was, it looked like the Wise Man's hand.

But man! I stared at that for a good minute trying to figure out how the statue was moving before the guy came into view!

Not exactly today, but sometime last week the leaves on the two large oaks in my yard finally started to turn color. One is a brown-tinged dirty yellow, the other is red going to brown. All these leaves will fall in a day or two between Christmas and New Years. The Bois d'Arcs are bare as are the few Sycamores in my neighborhood.

Gene, you brought back my father's voice with your mention of the Bois d'Arc trees. Bo-dark - that's the way he said it.

What an amazing batch of things people are seeing!

I saw the wind but didn't comprehend it. It blew the empty paper sack of a woman ahead of me on the sidewalk. I smiled. She held the bag by the handles. An empty sack! So animated and alive in the wind. Then I stepped past a building and the wind blew off my hat!

Aw, come on, TeacherDad. I'll bet what you noticed was really interesting!

ummm... don't remember what, if anything, I was going to put there...

but I did see the boys' lizards stacked up on top of each other, watching the cat watching them...
I saw all the paint colors swirl and mix and fade as they washed down the sink...
I did see The Wife walk in the front door, which is always a breath-taking and beautiful sight...
and I see more laundry in a basket I could swear I just emptied! Wait, that's not interesting, just par for the course...

I love it all - from your kids' amazing lizards to the magical laundry basket!

Hmmm, never realized the eternally full laundry was due to magic... must be the same spell that tosses the boys' shoes back into the middle of the floor after they've put them away!
The real trick would be to switch up the spells and have the basket always empty and the fridge always full (or my wallet, I'm not picky...)

I'm noticing that every last patch of snow has disappeared, the temps are in the hi 40's, it rained all last night & if we are going to keep dreaming of a white Christmas, somethings got to change real fast.

#199: Marian, I KNOW! Bummer!

An olfactory memory.

The smell of the soap in the bathroom, when I washed my hands, called the poem Invictus to mind. I memorized the poem in the fifth grade and haven't thought much about it since - maybe my elementary school had the same hand soap?!

...crystalline light snowfall today, like something out a fairy tale, Grimm without being grim. The air was alight as I walked downtown this afternoon; it's a miracle I wasn't sideswiped, how little attention I paid to everything else as I enjoyed an amazing, enchanted hour outside my little writing chamber...

A sudden, horrified realization:

I ALWAYS count my chickens before they're hatched!

This isn't something I noticed today, but I got some really good news and want to share it with everyone I possibly can.

I applied for an ESL certification course in Krakow and my application has officially been approved! So now I just have to do an interview and then, Krakow Ho!

(I keep asking kitty if she wants to be Krakovian Cat. I don't think she understands.)

That's so exciting, Ambushed! Do you speak Polish? According to legend, the university in Krakow was one of the ones Faust studied and/or taught in.

Have you read the book The trumpeter of Krakow by Eric kelly. Though written for children it is an exciting bit of Polish history.

A moment ago I went out of here and have noticed that outside in the sky there's a waxing crescent moon, which glows high up over the roofs... The temperature is still low but I could go out without scarf.

In my dream last night, I went through and deleted a message I'd posted here several months ago. And I wanted to do it incognito but the "last message" thing on the My Groups page said that I'd done it.

And once again I wonder why my brain can't come up with anything more interesting to dream about. (Although the barges that came later were pretty cool.)

I noticed a small hawk perched in the very highest reaches of my tallest oak tree, either resting or looking for the hampster that got away several years ago, or maybe a small rabbit.

On the way to work yesterday, I saw a large bird flying across a field. It was too big to be a hawk and it's too early for my beloved buzzards. Then I realized it was an eagle.

I noticed the world does not look so bad as seen from between the ears of a dog. http://theresawilliams-author.blogspot.com/2008/02/1950.html

This morning the guy I like told me that my story submission for class this week was "like a new car, fresh off the lot." That it's already perfect, that he could take a look at it and maybe say put an air freshener in it, but really there's nothing that could make it better.

I just thought that was a really nice way to compliment a story. And not just because it's my story, or because I'm nervous every time he gets near, or even because it's that good a story (it isn't, in my opinion).

Just in general. What an interesting way to put it. What a nice thing to say!

What a nice guy! No wonder you like him. And it looks like he likes you, too. Good luck to the both of you.

i thought folks here would appreciate this video clip, The Language of Autism, by Amanda Baggs.

Excerpts:

My language is not about designing words or even visual symbols for people to interpret. It is about being in a constant conversation with every aspect of my environment, reacting physically to all parts of my surroundings.

Far from being purposeless, the way that I move is an ongoing response to what is around me….The way I naturally think and respond to things looks and feels so different from standard concepts or even visualization that some people do not consider it thought at all. But it is a way of thinking in its own right.

In the end I want you to know that this has not been intended as a voyeuristic freak show where you get to look at the bizarre workings of the autistic mind. It is meant as a strong statement on the existence and value of many different kinds of thinking and interaction in the world….Only when the many shapes of personhood are recognized will justice and human rights be possible.

On my way to the bank, I noticed that the bay is still almost completely covered with slushy, shifting ice. There were a few areas of open water & those were covered by small plump birds that looked like Rubber duckies only they were dark. Probably sandpipers as this is the time of year they nest & they're probably waiting for the ice to go away. In the bare spaces of lawns where the snow had melted there were large groups of red-winged blackbirds. They are supposed to be a reliable indicator that spring has arrived & I sure hope so. Every bare spot had its own little group of birds, hopping around but not singing yet but tomorrow it's supposed to rain & hopefully warm up.
Which will make the birds & people happy.

I noticed that when I walk with my dogs out back and around the pond, at first I feel guilty for obviously disrupting the birds who live there, robins, red-winged blackbirds, great blue heron , and many more. Then I realize two things. I live there too. I think it is okay for them to be startled, for it is that finely tuned sensitivity which helps them survive!

Today I noticed that getting lost in a maze of Soviet-era apartment buildings is terrifying. (Hi from Krakow!)

When I visited Budapest a few years ago, I was struck by the uniquely Hungarian twist on those Soviet-era apartment buildings. They were big, monotonously unattractive buildings, to be sure. But they had been painted in wild and crazy colors - the one I remember was painted in all-over green and yellow vertical stripes, each stripe about as wide as one row of windows.

Have fun in Krakow, Ambushed!

Today I noticed a few artichokes hidden in the foliage on the plants. I also noticed that irises are shocking flowers.

Today I noticed that my daughter, just arriving home from 5 months in Senegal, is one of the most low-key, egoless human beings I have ever known. I was and continue to be, frankly, overwhelmed with the emotions stirred by this realization.

I noticed that the rhododendrons are just about to bloom.

Today I noticed that the Aussi Magpies - Which I feed from time to time - are rather
OBNOXIOUS birds. But I still love them.

I noticed that my cat is a phenomenal huntress. She left a chipmunk, a mouse, and a mole at my front door after only a few hours outside. Nature is amazing.

This morning I noticed that my precious little Welsh Corgi has amazingly muscular hind legs which catapult her at quite a speed when she is on, what I call, "a tear".

Today I noticed a turkey outside the window near my desk. Since turkeys usually show up in herds, I looked for more turkeys, there were none. But it appears that this turkey had a bunny as his one and only herd member. I guess 2 members do not constitute a true herd. But it's just too easy to call them the Odd Couple.

Or a turbun?

This morning I noticed a father trailing after his son trailing a lion dance ensemble that had just performed saying, "You can't follow them home."

LOL, Dubito!

Today I noticed immediately upon arriving at my cottage for a month's vacation, I am overcome with a deep sense of peace. Why can I not feel that at home the rest of the year?

I read this quote by "Wittgenstein", I am not sure this the right place to put it but it did seem right:
The aspects of things that are most important because of their simplicity and familiarity. (One is unable to notice something-because it is always before one's eyes.) The real foundations of his inquiry do not strike a person at all.-And this means to be struck by what, once seen, is most striking and most powerful. "Philosophical Investigations, #129