Opal Reflections
Perspectives through Prose, Poetry and Photography
Haiku Friday: Azure-o-sphere
Soaring sunward, o’er
Gathering cloud-clumps, ‘neath an
Azure atmosphere.
Photo Friday: Shades of Gray
“Shades of Gray” seemed a perfect theme to capture my mixed emotions as I tentatively stooped to pick this shell from the wave-washed beach at Ponte Vedra last March. It was my first ‘walk’ in the sand after three months of recuperation from a broken fibula. I hadn’t yet begun physical therapy, and though I was thrilled to finally feel wet sand beneath my feet again, I was dismayed that it was so difficult and painful. I realized then, that though the worst was behind me, I still had a long way to go on the road to normalcy.
Still, few experiences can compare to an early morning walk amidst seagulls, on an otherwise deserted beach.
This was taken with my iPhone 4S.
“Good Morning!”
🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊
It was a cool Tuesday dawn, after what had been a pleasant Memorial Day; a perfect morning to loll in bed for a few extra minutes, knowing the official start of the summer season had been kicked off.
With temperatures on the rise, my thoughts turned to the Jersey Shore. Bandit, our one-year-old Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, had yet to experience the beach, and I smiled at the thought of him dealing with sand and sea, for the first time. The 17-year cicadas emerged from the soil and had ascended to their treetop locations from which they’d launch their mating songs. I’d soon be done with the ritual sweeping of abandoned carcasses (Bandit’s new favorite snack).
I sipped my coffee, pondering these earth-shattering thoughts, when I was wrenched from my reverie by the doorbell. Who rings a doorbell at 7:04 AM? As Hubby raced to pull on his trousers to answer the door, a tinge of impending doom shattered my languorous mood.
With curious neighbors as witness, I crunched (cicada shells) across the front lawn, to join the men conversing with hubby at the curb. It would appear that my precious Infinti G37x had been involved in an altercation with a garbage truck. Â The truck won! Â Suddenly, my “…lazy, hazy, crazy..”, “…summertime…” plans were swished away; supplanted by visions of treks to the body shop and calls with the insurance company.
The burly perpetrator insisted he’d been driving big rigs for years and didn’t know how this could happen. He leaned under the ripped bumper, surveying the not- inconsequential damage, his head dangerously close to the ragged metal edge.
   “Be careful,” I cautioned.
   “I’d deserve it!”
   “Yes, you’re the evil person who wrecked my car!”
He shrugged and returned my smile, grateful that I wasn’t going ballistic.
I went back inside, leaving the details to Hubby. My grandsons grinned at me from the picture wall, and I counted my blessings.
It would be a sweet summer!
🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊
This week’s Trifecta Challenge:
APPEAR
1a : to be or come in sight b : to show up
2: to come formally before an authoritative body
3: to have an outward aspect : seem
You’re probably going to have to tinker with your sentence construction a bit in order to make appear work, since, as you know, our rules don’t allow you to use appears or appeared. That’s why it’s called a challenge! Good luck!
“Bless me, Father…”
Simple mantra,
Plaintive prayer:
“It’s been two weeks, no four!
It’s been six months,
since my last confession.”
Years have flown.
Where to begin?
Would He listen?
Could He forgive?
“Bless me Father…”
Weekly Photo Challenge: In The Background
This photo was taken in our Paris hotel room on May 1, 2012. Initially, I was drawn to the ultra modern window wall, with striking geometric sweep and simpatico materials of construction, creating dramatic contrasting and coordinating shades and shadows. One could return to this room, having strolled the avenues and cobblestone alleys of Paris, without leaving the Parisian ambiance behind.
Most surprising after having captured this photo, i realized the striking juxtaposition of this modern window wall with the mid-century architecture, beyond the window frame; and the loveliness of the beautifully warped surface, abutting the mirrored clarity of the city-facades view ‘up the hill’ to l’Arc de Triomphe.’
Guilty as Sin
These last few years had been surreal, Early on, she’d been in a state of shock. It wasn’t shock born of grief and sadness; nor was it shock from the realization that she had actually killed him; nor was it even the shock caused by the sight of his slumped, defenseless body, in the shower. No! She was shocked, surprised and dismayed that her carefully planned (ineptly executed) cover story, failed to cover the trail of blood that led unmistakably to her door. But her shock would soon be supplanted by celebrity, as she became the star of her own soap opera .
She was ‘on set‘ each day, assuming her leading lady role. The courtroom became the backdrop for the ‘made-for-TV’ supporting cast and ‘extras’ to play their parts. Her dressing room was a stark jail cell, her only prop, the dark-rimmed librarian glasses. She needed no makeup, and her long flowing tresses, would be secured by a simple hair band.
Cameras followed her every move, capturing her feigned expressions of helplessness. The press hounded her and her ‘Â takes‘ were replayed each evening on national news. She would don her mask of bewilderment, while conveying an uncanny self composure. She relished facing the jury and answering their questions. She would mold and manipulate them, like putty. Her strategy, her ‘method‘ would be to boldly make meaningful eye contact, shed a few crocodile tears, and erode their supposed objectivity and neutrality. They would surely become her unwitting sympathizers and supporters
She played her part well, the victim’ persona effectively erasing all trace of the ebullient, blond babe pictured in photographs. Poor defenseless waif or manipulative murderess? They would decide. but she was confident in her artistry and agility to pull this one off. Her ‘happily ever after’ awaited.
But it was not to be: Shock stealthily supplanted soap opera surreality. The verdict crashed over her like a mis-timed wave; that instead of carrying her victoriously to shore, pulled her under into the maelstrom of her remorseless sin.
Fade to black.
Portal to the Past
This piece was inspired by my coming upon the historic tree that used to mark the entrance to the old shortcut. The tree is no less  majestic and impressive, despite the overgrown foliage and unkempt appearance of the surroundings. But seeing the blooming Lilies of the Valley and  the still-discernible path leading around the tree, made me hopeful. I must admit, the rediscovery and the flood of images that ensued, brought a tear to my eye, as I remembered a more innocent time.
Written in response to the Trifecta Challenge:
PEDANTIC (adjective)
1 : of, relating to, or being a pedant(see pedant)
2 : narrowly, stodgily, and often ostentatiously learned
3 : unimaginative, pedestrian
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I’ve witnessed much.
Days, months, years and decade of schoolboys have sought shelter under my aged limbs; my undergrowth trodden by hordes of children, shortcutting their way to school. Like me, they’ve grown. Unlike me, they’ve moved on; some to far-flung shores, others to pedestrian professions in urban metropolises.
Only a few return. When they do, they might not take notice of me. Most often, the re-visitors ignore me (their once-precious portal to a secret shortcut through the woods).  I’m nearly unrecognizable, overgrown with spindly pin oaks, sinewy vines and wild Lilies of the Valley.  Yet,  here I stand;  waiting, watching, wrestling with nature and withering, little by little.
Today, Bobby returned again, this time with a small child in tow, his hand held firmly but gently by Grandpa. Bobby remembers.  He visits daily on his way to Brightwood Park, and he always pauses ‘neath my drooping branches, negotiating carefully, the root-cracked sidewalk. He’s brought his grandsons with him before.  Today, he strains as if eavesdropping on an alternate reality, filled with long-distant laughter of children.  He remembers and longs for the days of romping uninhibitedly over the path that he and his gang of ten-year olds trampled each day.
But that was a simpler time. Â Sadly, today the notion of a shortcut through the woods, is perceived to be merely a pedantic predilection of the geriatric set. Today, Bobby holds his grandson’s hand tenderly, protectively, as if to shield him from the demons that could be hiding in the lonely, overgrown woods; but remembering a simpler, more innocent time when a young boy could dash to school through these forested acres, unescorted by safe-keepers, and free to explore the world that he would soon inherit.
Tears? No, it’s just a few droplets of oozing sap. Bobby still remembers, and he is eager to share the secret with a wide-eyed, receptive, imaginative young boy, his grandson.
Today, I am less sad.
Today, I smile.
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Weekly Photo Challenge: Pattern
The patterns of this scene jumped out at me, as I set out to capture a rather ordinary set of deck stairs, rising from the soil and mulch, and finished with wooden, cross-hatched trellis.
I had been drawn to the contrast of the competing patterns in the shot; the wood grain, the long shadows of the stair-treads cast by the morning sun, and the staunch uprights. I deemed this set of patterns and grains to be interesting, beautiful and worthy of a photograph.
I soon realized that the star of my impromptu show was actually a diminutive critter, safely camouflaged and hiding from me beneath the stairs, in the shadows. Perpendicular, horizontal woodgrains, are a suitable canvas indeed, on which to capture the curvilinear, complex-patterned, coat markings of my new little friend.
Urban Renewal
Rushing, racing, crossing
Riverside Drive;
Nerve endings raw.
Frazzled!
Tardy!
Tense!
Suddenly, stranded center-strip,
Street sounds suspended,
Startled, silenced by shock of serenity!
Pavement Paradigm
Toppled by verdant vision,
Nestled underneath blossoms.
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This photo was taken one raw morning while walking to Columbia Presbyterian. Our dour mood was suddenly and momentarily uplifted, after having been stranded in the middle of the avenue. As we waited for the crossing signal that would allow us to continue on our way, we glanced to the right, opened our eyes, and saw this glimpse of peace, amid the city noise and confusion. Perhaps everything would be ok, after all.
🌳🌳🌳
Written in response to this weekend’s a Trifextra challenge.Â
On to the weekend prompt. This weekend we are asking for exactly 33 words, 30 of your own and three of the following:
topple paradigm underneath nerve honey loop
Photo Friday: Metropolis
This photo was taken from our balcony at the l’Hotel de la Paix one gray morning in Geneva, at the peak of rush hour. Â Not even the din rising from the city’s traffic-clogged arteries could diminish the impact of the Cathedral steeple in the old city; set off so dramatically and memorably against the backdrop of fog-shrouded Mont Blanc. Â This modern metropolis sits congenially in stark contradiction of culturally and historically significant European Capital.
Haiku Friday: They’re Back!
Perfect poked holes poised
Cicada cacophony
Canopy chorale
Lighthouse in the Mist, Cape May, NJ
Bandit
Festive View from the Pub, Peddler’s Village – Lahaska, PA.
Home Sweet Home
Opal Reflections 