September 2024
Milky Way–
river of transmigration–
celestial birds reach
across the seasons–
a conduit
between worlds
mackerel
clouds constellated of light,
harvested from growing
darkness, shorter days–
nets of wonder
pull me in
brevity
overtakes me—remaining
heat lingers, dissipates–
skies unfold as stars,
crystallized with
clarity
A seox sequence for Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday, where she provided kigo words Milky Way, mackerel clouds, and remaining heat. It does not look or feel like autumn here yet, but the city does seem to be holding it’s breath, waiting.
Both my parents were born in September, and my father died a few months after September 11, so the month always has a melancholy tinge for me. Rosanne Cash captures the feeling well in her last duet with her father.
Tree of Life/Green Man/Thursday Doors
The tree of life grows as it turns–
its fruit must be experienced,
its seeds released to be nurtured
by the earth, air, water and light,
opening in all directions–
the tree of life grows as it turns–
each season a new patterning
on the rim of the yearly wheel
of abundance and scarcity–
we must navigate between them
as the tree of life grows, then turns,
expanding both branches and roots–
path-changing continuously,
balancing on uncertainty,
shimmered with mysterious songs–
the tree of life grows as it turns
I’ve done Green Man guardians before, but it seems there are always more. Once again, I’ve taken unlabeled photos from my archives. These guardians appear also as window ornaments.
Green Man is a forest spirit, Gaia’s protector, who connects humans with the natural world. I think of him first as Irish, but he is an ancient god, seen throughout Europe, the Middle East, and in parts of Asia as well.
Here’s another door with Green Man guarding the threshold.
This house’s guardians are at the bottom of the staircase.
Each side is different, with different faces as well.
I wonder if the staircase itself was originally more elaborate.
My poem is a quatern, for Suzanne’s W3 prompt on the subject of transformation. You know I can never resist a poetic form with repetition.
The Tree of Life collage is another in my Niki de Saint Phalle-inspired Tarot series. She included the Tree of Life in her Tarot Garden, so I thought I would make it into an additional card.
And, as always, look for more doors from all over the world at Thursday Doors, hosted by Dan Antion.
Moon Doors (Thursday Doors)
The moon has
maneuvered itself
into my sunrise window
For weeks it was
only seen inside
the witching hours
What coastline
does it follow
within the seas of night?
My dreams are
surrounded by empty skies
waiting for change
I look for patterns,
some kind of lunar logic
to close my inner gaps
Mystified,
I remain subject to
the moon’s cyclical whims
I was looking for some doors to use with a moon poem I had written and I remembered I had photos of a group of houses on West End Avenue with arched entrances to doors with circular windows. They were taken at two different times, but covered most of the doors.
I did not realize that the houses on West End Avenue were once a wraparound to the similar house on 79th street with an identical doorway. Why was there a strange white house now in between?
The red houses were designed by architect Frederick B White to be a “single composition”. He was only 24 when he designed them, and tragically died just after they were completed in 1886. I’m actually surprised that all but one of the houses have survived intact.
The outlier was “updated” after WWI by its owner Harry H Lang. Architects Sterner and Wolfe redesigned the house in a mock-Tudor style, more popular at the time than the original Queen Anne building.
The Daytonian, as usual, has a detailed history of the various residents over the years. One was Aimee Hutchinson, who became an ardent suffragette after being fired from her teaching job for marching in the Women Suffrage parade in 1912. Another was Fritz “Cupid” Podzius, a marriage broker, who “reportedly arranged about 20,000 marriages although he himself never married”.
The Daytonian article, written in 2012, indicates that most of the houses had been broken up into apartments. I remember that to be true from my apartment-hunting days, but my current research shows that most, if not all, have been restored to pricey single homes. The corner house is under construction; it sold in 2021 for 5.5 million dollars.
383 has a For Sale sign out front, but StreetEasy said it was delisted. Either way you can see photos and a floor plan here. 389 has a video on StreetEasy from its sale in 2022, here, and also photos and a floor plan. And you can see the listing for 305 W 78 St here, which sold in 2021 for just over 6 million. It has a staff room and studio on the roof.
There are also some nice photos of the architectural detail on the West End Avenue houses at NewYorkitecture, here.
And here’s my morning moon–a welcome sight. My poem is a triversen, as suggested by Merril at dVerse.
And don’t forget to look at all the doors at Thursday Doors, hosted by Dan Antion.
Beach I Ching 18: #53 Chien (gradual progress)
1
The journey seeks
completion, gradual transformation.
2
Roots are patient–
foundation unfolds unseen.
3
Skywind beckons birds
to follow the path of the seasons.
4
Growth yields to the rhythm,
the ongoing process of life’s turning.
5
Time bends, knows when to wait,
when to open wings, dance.
It’s been awhile (over two years) since I’ve done a Beach I Ching post, but my visit to the beach recently made me want to get back to it. This photo is from 2014, the first year I started arranging shells in this way, and I’ve been doing photos every year since then. But I’ve only done 18 of the 64 Hexagrams, and I’ve only just almost finished the photos from the first year. Each year’s photos are slightly, and sometimes very, different, so it will be interesting to see how that affects what I do with the rest of the hexagrams. Hopefully there will not be a two year gap until the next one.
I find that when I do finally get around to it, the hexagram is always appropriate to the times. The poem with my synthesized interpretation of the message is a quadrille for dVerse, where Lisa provided the word bend.
And, as usual, here are some quotes from the resources I consulted about #53.
Let each step be its own adventure and it’s own goal. Now is the time to focus on today. Tomorrow will still come.– ifate.com
Beware of greed and egotistical ambitions. Concentrate on steady long-term goals with a focus on real values.– motheringchange.com
The natural order of things does not push the tree to grow faster, nor does it try to influence the speed or course of the river.– Bobby Klein
We grow into life’s possibilities.– Hilary Barrett
Weekend and some more older art
A very old piece from my Nevelson admiration period, circa 1968. I turned some of the elements on a lathe at the University of Cincinnati woodworking studio.
I used to make these crafty boxes for Christmas gifts a long time ago. I gave one to my daughter’s Pre-K teacher and my daughter is 37, so that’s how long ago it was.
Another oldie from a series using fabric from my grandfather’s silk mill in Paterson, NJ. Kerfe put these all together and you can find them on this blog someplace.
My dear old Martin 00-18. One of these days I’m going to post a video of me playing something one of these days when I work up the nerve and when my husband can tape me.
Have a great week!
Nina
Random Photos (Thursday Doors)
They say money is the root of evil–
what is the price to be paid?–
the benefit, the cost?
We want to leave some kind of legacy–
what has roots that will endure?–
all that remains is stone
Life grows gradually, then suddenly,
reaching upward toward light–
sunflowers open, smile
They say money is the root of evil–
What has roots that will endure?–
sunflowers open, smile
As I’ve noted before, I have lots of photos with no context to them. The top two were taken years ago, on a trip to Chinatown, before I was looking at doors–hence the incomplete door. The sign is intriguing. I wonder how many people obeyed.
I have no idea where or when I took the second set, but I love how the door looks like a body for the unusual guardian. Was it modeled after someone the architect or owner knew?
I think I mentioned before that one of the neighboring brownstones on my street always grows sunflowers and I looked forward to seeing them. And here they are, above–it doesn’t take much to encourage them. A little soil, a lot of rain, and some sun.
And above are some sunflowers from a wedding I attended last summer. Sunflower is Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday kigo word this week.
My poem is supposed to be a garland kimo in answer to Muri’s W3 theme of good vs evil, but I’m not sure it fits the criteria–it has movement for one thing. And the conflict is a bit ambiguous. But perhaps my (actual) snapshots will make up for my lack of proper form.
And don’t forget to visit all the doors at Thursday Doors, hosted by Dan Antion.
Waning days of August
I was gifted this ukulele by a very kind patient. I mentioned I’d like to learn and he said he had four ukes. The next day he brought me this one. I’ve been playing guitar for over 60 years and I’m excited to learn a new instrument.
Speaking of old this is one of the oldest paintings of mine that I still have. Dated 1965, it was an interpretation of New York City.
A friend of mine brought me some rocks. I don’t know yet what to do with them-a little too small to paint. Thinking of doing something sculptural.
I’ve been working more hours at work as we are short staffed. I miss having a day off during the week but I can do this for a while.
I haven’t done any art work or any preparation for the showing at a boutique here in town. I have been swimming a lot and that is always a good thing.
Have a good week!
Nina
August 2024/Birdling Dreams/Draw a Bird Day/Brown Thrasher
It was getting to be autumn. The landscape was becoming a different country. A wilderness. There were frames for windows and doors but the frames were empty.
An impression of orange—a fox? No—birds, wings. Wings filling the frames. A portal?
I rotate like clockhands reaching across a gap. Where am I?
dense fog has absorbed
the remaining heat—somewhere
a moon is rising
You know I like to wander I said.
Truedessa at dVerse prompted us to write a poem inspired by our dreams. My haibun has bits of a few dreams combined with being visited last week at the beach by a pair of brown thrashers. I’ve also used kigo words fog and remaining heat for Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday.
The beach house had a “screened in porch” with neither door nor screens. The thrashers entered one of the empty windows several times and looked around, but I guess in the end they found it unsuitable for their needs.
At first we thought they were mockingbirds, but they are larger, and the coloring is more vivid and varied. Although related to mockingbirds, they are more often mistaken for wood thrushes. But like mockingbirds, and their other close relatives, catbirds, they have a very large repertoire of songs–the largest of all birds, according to Wikipedia.
The dunes are a good place for them to live, as they like dense scrub, and spend most of their time hidden on the ground where they thrash with their beaks for insects, seeds, fruit, worms, caterpillars and even small reptiles and amphibians. They like bees and wasps–we saw plenty of those, and also quite a few little lizards.
Brown thrashers are abundant throughout the eastern United States and up into Canada, although as with all birds their population is declining due to pesticides and habitat loss–37% of these birds were lost between 1966 and 2019. They are year-round residents in the south, but northern populations migrate. I have seen a brown thrasher in the city, but only once.
Several websites where I looked for information about them described them as “foxy”–both for their color and their tendency to be elusive. Hence the fox in my haibun. But I really did say that to the other people in my wilderness dream.
method two madness 
Recent Comments