Color me

Arrangement by me. Mother Nature helped.

Well, the ceaseless rain took a brief break on Wednesday here in Pittsburgh, so I went for a walk.

April's breezes have been scattering blossom petals and young leaves all over the place.

I picked up these maple seedlings and baby leaves on my stroll. The deep rose red and bright pistachio green are one of the best color combinations in nature. (Complementary on the color wheel.) 

I don't know why this pairing speaks to me, especially because my birthstone is amethyst and I love all things purple.

Here's the thing, though. I love purple with green. I love walnut brown with green. And blue is not my favorite color (except for denim, it will never hang over my bones) but I love it with green.

And I'm not talking about Kelly green. I'm talking cool limes, pale spring leaves and the glaucous shades of evergreens.

It's been years since I took a class in color theory, but what I remember is that I liked the gradations, the hints of what happens when you mix a bit. Talented artists do this mixing all the time to great effect and with more art education than me.

I just pick it up on the street. 😊

(Update: April's showers are more than living up to their name. The drenching has resumed.) 😞

Thunder and fireflies (and, for a change, rain)

It has been a very wet and gloomy week here in Pittsburgh. The dreary details have to do with something called the northern oscillation, and, I guess, warm Gulf of Mexico air meeting slightly cooler air coming from the north.

Last night, (June 18) after a day of frowning skies and occasional showers, the clouds parted briefly around 6 or so and the blue sky appeared. That was nice. Even nicer was the firefly show.
I stood out on the front porch, mostly just to see the evening blue and guess what, the summer lightning bugs made their appearance in the dusk. There are so few of them these days; I remember catching them in mayonnaise jars when I was a kid. Now, I feel fortunate to see three or four flickering around my yard on a late June night. (Of course, maybe they are drowning.)

A few weeks ago, a sales kid came knocking on the door, pitching a lawn pesticide service, including the admonition "a lot of your neighbors have signed up!" Why is that a selling point? I guess it probably isn't ... just something the door-to-door kids are told to say. But my own idea is that I would rather see fireflies in June than a weed-free lawn all summer.

Here is a front yard in my hilly neighborhood. No grass, lots of plants, shrubs and trees and hopefully no need for lawn poison. Really pretty.

(Photo by Katy Buchanan)

P.S. Flash flood watch this afternoon at 3 p.m. til 5:30 p.m. Clear from 6-ish on to about 8. But thunder and downpours have returned as we roll towards midnight. More of the same expected Thursday. Ray Bradbury's "Long Rain" was extraordinarily prescient.

I guess I'll just go ... crazy tonight

Weird Northeast summer in 2018.

Totally soaked in June, parched and hot in July, kind of a mix in August and now bizarro September, which has gone from a muggy 90-or-so degrees on Wednesday to  a dreary, rainy 55-or-so degrees late Saturday and early Sunday
. I hope we get golden fall with clear blue skies. Lord knows there will be more than enough grey and gloom from November through February.

Mt. Lebanon, PA, September 8, 2018

And yet, late afternoon, kids playing on the street in the downpour, yelling and shouting. 

Puts me in mind of this lovely song, featured in the 2011 movie "Bridesmaids." But this is an earlier artist, Irma Thomas

And, lastly, thinking of the people in the Caribbean islands, Puerto Rico and Houston who suffered so much at this time last year when Maria, Irma and Harvey barreled in south of here.

Blue sky and night rain

The night rain pattering on my window heralds, according to the weather report, some wintry weather with its attendant traffic jams, school closings, panicked grocery store crowds, etc.

I'm not thinking or worrying about any of that. I am just enjoying the soothing sound that will very shortly lull me to sleep.

The day began with clear skies; as the dogs and I walked out of the house I looked up to see dissolving pale white contrails from the day's earliest flights.

A crow flapped into my line of sight and landed in a neighbor's big honey locust, gripping a piece of food in its talons. It pecked away for a few moments before a brother crow -- showing off the species' thieving DNA -- swooped in and stole the morsel. I think it was a pizza crust. Victim crow clucked harshly and hopped to another branch and I watched their black shapes bob against that pale, but still saturated, December-blue sky.

We walked on and I noticed in a protected area by a neighbor's house, right at the entrance to the park, a forsythia bush that had been fooled by the warm fall weather into pushing out a few bright yellow flowers. They were frozen, but even in their limp shape their color stood out against the red brick wall behind them. I have seen this before. A few years ago, in the street level parking lot behind the Carnegie Museum of Art in Oakland, some ornamental cherry trees lining a sidewalk had decided it was time to bloom, although it was only February. I couldn't resist. I snipped a few branches on our way out and took them home to enjoy in a vase. It was such a tiny thrill to find them there, warm rose centers and pink-white petals, blooming in the February gray.

We pushed on through the park, dogs sniffing, me listening and watching. As we headed down the slope that leads over a little bridge, one of my neighbors' kids was walking up, headed to the middle school on the other side.

He is so cute, I don't know his name but he is very serious, very earnest and quite intelligent. He was wearing a jacket covered by the ubiquitous kid backpack and a cap with the earflaps pulled down and carrying a banjo in a black case.

Holli and Twist pulled toward him and he asked if we were members of the greyhound society. He has asked me this before, so to make things easy, I just said yes. He smiled, revealing a mouthful of braces and said: "Apparently they are enticed by the alluring scent of my banjo. I have to bring it today for a sound project." And, I didn't quiet get this part, but then he added, "and to prove to some doctors (?) that, yes, there are still people who play the banjo."

I wanted to tell him about Steve Martin, but figured there would be too much explanation involved, for which I did not have time. So I just smiled and then he said: "Well! Enjoy the rest of your walk!" And turned to head up to school.

I had to smile, a big smile. I wonder what it is like to be so young and so smart? So.... almost grownup. He can't be in more than fourth grade or so, but so droll and composed!

Thanks for the smile, sweetheart. You topped off a lovely morning walk that engaged nearly all of my senses. And the memory of you has me smiling again as I listen to the rain against my window.