T.G.I.F. (…to the weekend)


@itspeteski

there’s something that paintings and other created objects can do to give you some relief


Notes:

  • Photo: DK @ Daybreak. 5:07 am, May 6, 2021. 48° F. Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT.
  • Post Title from: Rachel Cusk, Second Place: A Novel (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, May 4, 2021)

Lightly Child, Lightly.

Whether in daytime or nighttime
I always carry inside
a light.
In the middle of noise and turmoil
I carry silence.
Always
I carry light and silence.”

Anna Swir, “There Is A Light In Me”, trans. Czeslaw Milosz & Leonard Nathan, in “Talking to My Body”


Notes:

  • DK Photo: Moonlight. Calf Pasture Beach. 5:25 am. May 1, 2021
  • Post Title & Inspiration: Aldous Huxley: “It’s dark because you are trying too hard. Lightly child, lightly. Learn to do everything lightly. Yes, feel lightly even though you’re feeling deeply. Just lightly let things happen and lightly cope with them.”

Walking. 365 days. Like in a row.

Good morning.

I looked back at my blog post on May 5, 2020. Clear skies. 42° F … “Nippy for May” is how I described it.  Didn’t know at the time that I’d be on this sustained journey.  This 365 consecutive day morning walk to Cove Island Park at daybreak. 365 days, like in a row.

I was surprised to see that a year ago, I was monitoring the nesting of yet another Canada Goose. And this year, I’m at it again. Same one? Who knows?  On the drive to the park this morning (and every morning since gestation started), I’m unsettled, uneasy — until I pull up, and verify that everything is as it should be. Life is as it should be. In order. No cruelty. No tragedies. Tracking to nature’s time. Hesse: But I need to feel beautiful and holy things around me, always…I need it, and I refuse to give it up…That’s my fatal flaw.

Mother Goose was curled up in her nest. Her mate, was strolling up and down the pier a few yards away.  Beth described me as their Midwife, and that sounds about right.

And despite Daniel’s prognostication that Mother Goose may bless me with the birth of a little one on my Anniversary, it didn’t happen. Not today.  Not yet anyway. I can wait.

And Him (or Her, more likely) way way upstairs, didn’t bless me with a glorious sunrise to honor my Anniversary.  No multi color light show in the sky. No wow shots.  But to be fair, He’s given me far, far more days of majesty than days of overcast, by a wide margin.

The rain, this morning, a super fine mist — somewhere in size between dust motes and very light rain. And it continued for my entire walk. A cool, light, fresh touch.

No one ventured out in the rain this morning. In a city of 130,000, I was alone. My Park. My Time.

It was high tide and water was gushing into the Cove.

The flags flying high above the Cove Island Snack shop (badly in need of paint) rustled gently in the breeze.

Waterfowl were awakening, cormorants were fishing.

A light fog hangs over the water.

And a lightness hangs over me as I’m driving home thinking that it’s time for a morning Break. A sabbatical of sorts.  Sleep in for a day or two, and then consider my next steps.

And then what? Replace it with what?

With what that could possibly be better? 


DK @ Daybreak. 5:08 am, May 5, 2021. 50° F. Light misty rain. Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT.

Guess.What.Day.It.Is?


Notes:

  • Photo: Yaman Ibrahim for Nat Geo. Two visitors wade in the Yamuna River in Agra, India. The city of Agra is best known as the location of the iconic Taj Mahal, awash in the brilliant light of morning in the background.
  • Background on Caleb/Wednesday/Hump Day Posts and Geico’s original commercial: Let’s Hit it Again.

Truth…


Source: free them all

Monday Morning Wake-Up Call (& I-95 S)


(Snoopy going to work by Banksy) via Wait – What?)

 

Walking. It Ain’t Disney on the Sabbath.

5:50 a.m.

Go ahead, lip sync. I’ll wait.  362 consecutive days. Like in a Row. Morning walk @ Cove Island Park.

I can see her from the parking lot.  She’s up.  I rush to grab the camera gear, worried that she’s going to plop down again and I’ll miss the shot.

Yet, Something is off.

A raven approaches the nest with his shrill KRAA! KRAA! KRAA!

The male rushes towards it, hissing. Canadians, normally patient, and ever-courteous, can be pushed only so far.  Nasty black scavenger, steps back, offers a half-a**ed kraa! and takes watch from a distance. I look around for a stone to join in the defense. Lucky for you Ray, I didn’t find one.

Mother Goose, meanwhile continues to peck away at her nest.

There’s no sign of eggs.

No sign of little ones.

I wait.

And watch.

No eggs. No little ones.

She’s pecking, poking, arranging.  And then, she tugs and pulls on what appears to be a fetus, skin color, reddish orange.

I watch for a moment longer. And leave. Can’t watch this.

I walk up to the bridge, the entrance to the park.  Take another look from this vantage point. No eggs. No little ones. Maybe they’ll both be gone by the time I return. And some kind soul will sweep the remains of that hardscrabble nest into Long Island Sound.

I walk around the park, not anxious to return to the funeral, and return 30 minutes later.

She’s still poking at her nest. Odd.

The raven has departed, tired of waiting for a free meal.

Her mate is now sitting on the pier. Must be waiting for her to be done grieving so they can move on.

I cross the bridge. Still no sign of any eggs, or little ones. Ever the optimist DK.

I look away.  Sad, all of it. Heavy.

I get in the car, and turn up the heater. Cold? 53° F?  I can’t bear to keep looking at the scene.

I’m ready to back out of the parking lot, and take one last look. She’s still cleaning her empty nest. What is she doing? Strap on your zoom lens and let’s see what she’s poking at.

I turn off the ignition, and get out of the car.

Camera, super zoom lens affixed, I walk back out to the fence and zoom in on the target…

[Read more…]

Walking. With Abby.

360 consecutive days.  Like in a row. Morning walk @ Daybreak.

Sun rises at 5:52 a.m, twilight is ~ 50 to 60 minutes earlier. You can do the math. Early.

I’m on I-95 N.  I shift in my seat and an electric current fires from lower back, through hip, down the leg and sizzles all the way down to the toes.

I’m back in Physical Therapy.  PT, is what the cool people call it. Diagnosis? Not pulled hamstring, but lower back (again). Two weeks in, better, but far from rehabbed.

I ease out of the car, and my conversation with my new Therapist flashes back.

“Where’s Abby?”

“Abby?” [Read more…]

Show Time!


DK @ Daybreak with Mother Goose doing some housecleaning. (Note Mate on look out, never far away.) 6:16 am. April 30, 2021. 61° F. Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT.

%d bloggers like this: