Great Big Snowman

About a week ago, we had two waves of  snow that closed schools for a day or two. It was heavy and hard to shovel but just right for building snowmen. This one took almost all the snow in its yard. He stands near a busy street, waving his one gloved hand at the cars as they whizz past. I am sorry to report that his head has pretty much disappeared over the past couple of warmer days, but he is still waving.  

Marbled Hearts

Hearts are everywhere in February. Most of them are the usual red and pink varieties. The best ones contain chocolates. I am always on the lookout for hearts. Here they are, formed from marbling paints, suspended on a couple of inches of methyl cellulose, the goo that allows the paints to float. The yellow hearts are the most obvious but look closely and you will see some pink ones as well. You never know where hearts will appear, so keep your eyes open. 

Icy Branches

This has been a winter punctuated by many waves of snow, sleet and ice. None of them lasts long but each one has been a source of worry. I go out and check our  "mystery tree," which is close to 100 years old. It is some sort of horizontally-branching catalpa that collects the ice or snow. A few years ago, a large limb cracked and tore away under the weight of a heavy, wet snow. So I check my old friend and see that the ice is already melting. Relieved, I take a few minutes to admire the way the disappearing ice shimmers on the tangled network of browns and blacks. Then a breeze sends an icy shower of drops into my face. Time to go inside.

A Face Seen In the Subway

The Eastern Parkway stop of the IRT line is the one that takes you to the Brooklyn Museum of Art. About ten years ago, when the station was renovated, the mezzanine became the setting for one of the transit authority's "Art For Transit" installations. The  walls are studded with a series of architectural fragments salvaged from demolished buildings, part of the museum’s City of New York Collection. This head is one of my favorites. Carved into a keystone, his expression intrigues me. The curve of his lips makes him look slightly bemused but his eyes hold a bit of impatience in them. Did the stonemason model him after a real person? We will never know. Now he watches the comings and goings of commuters and still keeps his stony, unknowable thoughts to himself.