Pods On The Tree

 It was a nice day for a walk. On an unfamiliar street, a breeze picked up. I heard an odd rattling sound over my head. It came from the tree on the edge of the sidewalk. Clusters of dried seed pods clung to leafless branches, reflecting the sunshine, rippled as old washboards. If a thesaurus held recordings instead of just printed words, the seeds rattling within those pods would be the sound to illustrate the section for "desiccated." Soon the pods will lose their grip and be replaced by new leaves. The cycle will start over. 

Teacups and Townhouses

 On a sunny afternoon, I paused to look at the row of Victorian-era teacups in the window of an antiques shop. The delicate patterns of hand painted blossoms became confused with the image of the townhouses and lacy branches reflected in the window. It struck me that a long-ago resident could have offered tea in those teacups to a guest at the time when the teacups were brand new. Now they sit across the street from each other, separated, but also connected by a pane of glass.

Hanging Hearts

 It was the way the hearts drifted in the breeze that caught my attention. They complimented the wreath on the door. Perhaps that wreath, and the lights wrapped around the shrubs were left over from Christmas. Does it matter? We are on to another holiday. If there is a way to surprise and delight strangers as they pass by your home, I am all for it.

Shadows On the Playground

 The days are long gone when a swing set would be bolted to the bare asphalt of a schoolyard. Even a grassy playground with bare spots directly under the swings, scraped by endless pairs of shoes is a rarity. Now, softer, safer materials cushion any falls. This tweedy patchwork may be created from recycled plastic bottles. On a chilly day I was alone, contemplating the abstract pattern thrown by the shadows, wondering how earlier generations managed to survive the playgrounds of our youth.