Catwings, Joy, & a Birthday Balloon

Dog Walk Discoveries (July 2016)
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​In July I continued my habit of taking very long walks early in the morning, and I was amply rewarded! More flowers, more sidewalk poetry, more amusing lawn ornaments, and more stories.

Doesn't this flower look like it's lit from within?
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Some mushrooms are really flowers at heart.
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​I don't know what I like better—the soaring flowers that have completely overtaken a light pole; or the tangled, gnarly trunk. ​

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Through the trees, a glimpse of a pond I didn't know was there. 

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​Here's an albino squirrel I see frequently on my walks. (Or maybe it's not the same one?!)
​I would like to believe this little guy brings me good luck.
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On a beautiful Sunday morning, this squirrel was enjoying his breakfast—an entire bagel. Maybe he's got the New York Times stashed away somewhere too. 

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A birthday balloon determined to celebrate until the last possible moment.

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Not much to look at here...but wait, isn't that a word on the garage?​

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No joy here...
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​No joy here, either...
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But here the joy has been given permanent status.

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​Now for some lawn ornaments...
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I have to believe that this homeowner is a fan of Ursula Le Guin's CATWINGS series. (Makes me feel quite nostalgic. I remember reading these to my kids when they were little.)

​This yard is a story in itself!

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What made these leaf patterns? 

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​Do you get the feeling the shrub is reaching
with all its might toward the broken branch?

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A food or water dish for a stray cat. Acts of kindness are all around.

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​A shattered TV on the sidewalk...

...but how lovely, the shattered bits of sky!

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Old box springs ready to be picked up.

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More sidewalk poetry! 
Everyday Poems for City Sidewalk
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​Advice for Gardeners

Accept brevity.
Celebrate decay.
Emancipate failed growth, hope
it'll just keep living. Mulch
near odd places.
Quit raking.
Sleep.
Read unlimited variegated words.
​Xerox your zucchini.

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Autumn winds drag leaves from the trees,
clog the streets in dreary finale.
Bare branches crisscross the heavy sky.
Icy rain spatters, ink-blots the pavement.
I settle at the window, stare into the black flannel,
​search the woolly lining of the night for winter.

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​What hurt you today
was taken out of your heart
by the meadowlark
who slipped the silver needle
of her song
in and out of the grey day
​and mended what was torn.

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Steal It

​Go.
Feel the rush.
Speed.
Take off.
The throw.
The catch.
The slide..
...Safe.

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In closing, here's another flower. Always reach for the light.