Easter Juju with George

Some of you may know George from a previous post.  This Easter adventure is a tame bunny compared to what happened with us in The Urchins.

By text this morning, how it all began:

Me:  Do you have any desire to color Easter eggs?  I like to pick leaves, wrap against the egg, cover with stocking and then dye.  The leaf imprint doesn’t take the color because of the oils and makes lovely eggs.  It means we have to go around and find leaves which could be fun. LMK.

George:  Sure!  Let’s do it.

Me:  What about Central Park as part of our leaf finding mission?

George:  You read my mind.

Me:  I’d better get a move on!  We have some exploring to accomplish and we both know what that means.

George:  Oh yes, I know what that means: conjuring up juju.

Me:   Uh oh.

George:  Look out world.

Me:  Exactly.

George:  We will reach into the unknown.  Wear your shields.

Me:  Knee pads?

George:  Of course, helmets too.

Me:  Already got them on.


George had his camera ready and took me by surprise as I approached our meeting place on 6th Avenue.  As he titled this photo, Wild in NY and Ready for Action.

All that bravado by text for a relatively civilized endeavor:


The eggs getting hard boiled


Harvested plant materials


Wrapped in place, secured in stocking fabric


Soaking in dyes




And on display.

Even though the process of dying the eggs was a lovely one, the highlight of the day was in Central Park.  We noticed people gathered around a big yew, staring at something on an inner branch which turned out to be a Boreal Owl sleeping on a branch.   Photo courtesy of George Goen


Easter: Italian Style

On the very first night strolling through the ancient streets of Rome


Soft sweetness in a bakery window sliced through my traveling fog.


The next morning at breakfast, a cone bouquet screamed ‘Gelato!’


Everywhere we walked, colorful bins of temptation,


Gardens of chocolate delights,


Posies waiting to be picked,


Each blossom prettier than the one before.


So many, even handmade tassels became a pastel homage to Easter.

May yours be lovely and sweet.

Angels in Ancient Rome


Everywhere, my dear friend Kathy and I went in Rome, were angels carved in stone,


Reminding us of our innocence.


Under impossibly blue skies, above the Trevi Fountain,


In the saffron meditators above the Forum,


And beneath the pearlescence of a stormy evening,


We stared at the ancient miraculous,


All gorgeous reminders of our impermanence.

Thoughts on a Snowy Night, Just Hours from Spring


“Better to write for yourself and have no public, than to write for the public and have no self,” so said Cyril Connolley, the British intellectual literary critic and writer.


That sentence got me thinking.  I heard it by chance today while on the elliptical machine. during the last minutes of an episode of Criminal Minds.  All their stories get summed up with a pertinent quote.  This one stuck.   Tonight, I took his words to the streets for a walk in the falling snow.


Why write; why do my artist friends create; why do actors and musicians perform, I wondered.  Why go down that road of lonely exploration if not to glean some morsel of wisdom through the process, a beautiful vision, a new interpretation of sound, a good story, a revelation in one’s philosophy, and last but not least, the feeling that one is alive and connected to the divine through creative expression?


Must you give up your self  and integrity to communicate to others?   I always come back to this conclusion: I write to explore the layers of language and because it helps make sense out of chaos.  I write because it’s an expression of humanity.

IMG_4079At the end of the evening’s excursion, with a head heavy from snow, glistening and remembering, I write to connect to you.

Winter Trees

At the risk of others finding out I am a not so secret tree hugger, that I photograph some of the same specimens every season, here are a few in my recent past.  Every single one of them made me feel happy to be alive.

The Diva Amongst the Shadows


Two Rows, One Pair



A Village Scrapper


Hot Blooded Exuberance in Cold Weather: West 10th Street


Fire in the Sky at Dawn


Recent Evenings, New York


The Rock at Dusk


Liquid Gold


Reflections of a Jewel inside the Marriott Lounge


New Year’s Eve in the Metropolis


Steel Stripes and Cotton Clouds


Evening Descending on PS 1 Moma, James Turell


Jason Miers, AKA Partner in Crime, Cleaning My Chandelier