1-30-2006, 9:00 am
photo by A. Graf

Giant Backyard Annual Sundial

I took this photo of our backyard today around 9 am. What interests me is the line where the snow decided to melt instead of sticking to the brick walkway. Although there has not been sun since Friday, the northern (far) section of walk still has more warmth than the part of the path closest to the house, which remains in perpetual winter shade. There is a definite line where the snow is melting on only the bricks that have had the luxury of sun in recent days.

On our old concrete sidewalk, replaced about five years ago by brick, I had painted two lines showing where the sun reached over our roof on the shortest and longest days of the year at high noon. The difference between those two marks was around 50 feet. I will have to remember to draw those lines again on the upcoming summer and winter solstices, capturing a sort of seasonal clock with the sun and the roof of our house. I love this stuff.

This weekend in my refrigerator I pulled out a buttermilk carton with a "sell by" date of November 2, 2004. I think I'm turning into my mother.

I just finished a very interesting book entitled Nice Dreads: Hair Care Basics and Inspiration for Colored Girls Who've Considered Locking Their Hair. Now that I read this book, I know I have to give up, once and for all, my strong desire for something more substantial on my head than Marsha Brady's fine, limp locks in a dull, mousy brown. I love the look of dreads, but it ain't happenin' here. The best I can do for myself is more therapy for severe hair envy syndrome.

This bird was in my neighbor's yard today. After looking in a couple bird books, our best guess is a sharp-shinned hawk. His chin and talons are bloody, so he must have just eaten.
photo by A. Graf

Rust: Reflections of it and on it

I spent a lovely afternoon today with my dad, wandering around downtown with our cameras. I apologize for so many photos of the Milwaukee River, but it was particularly captivating to me this afternoon. Let it be known that I could have posted dozens more, but I restrained myself.

There is such beauty in the common things around us if we can learn to see it. I hope that when you look at some of these very ordinary, even lowly objects or things we might consider eyesores in general, you can see them in a new way and appreciate the forms within the forms.

I nearly froze my uncovered ears off today, but it was worth it.

This is the yellow Usinger's Sausage sign reflected in the Milwaukee River.
photo by A. Graf

One rusty girder, holding up scaffolding around Milwaukee's City Hall
photo by A. Graf

Still more of the same, but so lovely I can hardly stand it
photo by A. Graf

These beautiful metal things are used to hold back shutters at the Usinger's factory downtown.
photo by A. Graf

More reflections on the Milwaukee River, or could you guess that?
photo by A. Graf

More reflections on the Milwaukee River
photo by A. Graf

Effluent outlet on the Milwaukee River, full of endearing rust - how lovely
photo by A. Graf

Mallard on Milwaukee River
photo by A. Graf

More reflections on the Milwaukee River
photo by A. Graf

Reflections on the Milwaukee River this afternoon
photo by A. Graf

Thursday, January 5, 2006

Workmen put the finishing touches on a freshly dug grave as I walk by the large cemetery near our house this cold, gray afternoon. There must be a mile of chainlink along this road, between our home and the bank. Wire fencing to keep the dead in. Between headstones there is mainly just cropped, winter-sleeping grass, but every so often I pass under a juniper tree. They are planted along the fence here and there, in clumped lines of three or five. A lot of garbage collects here, pushing itself up against the foot of the fence. Motorists toss all sorts of crap out of their vehicles as they speed by – cans, bottles, junk food wrappers, cardboard boxes, condoms, snuff containers and cigarette wrappers, cellophane, paper and plastic grocery bags. It all finds its way onto the slim strip of grass that extends about a foot beyond the fence, next to the sidewalk. Mixed in with the detritus are small, blue pearls, clustered in the places where the shadows of juniper trees would be were there any sun. I stop to gather a handful. I rub them together in my gloved hands and breathe in their Christmassy scent.

I keep walking until I near the last group of scraggly trees, and there I stop again and add a few more juniper berries to my collection. At the corner, where the fence turns west and so do I, a funeral procession advances through the intersection, headlights glowing and little flags on each hood. I wonder if they’re going to stop at the new grave I just passed. It’s a good day for a burial: cold, but not bitter; slate-gray sky, but no rain. There are fragrant junipers near the grave.

I carry the berries home and put them in a small, white, Japanese-style teacup. I crush them a bit with my fingers and inhale again, deeply.