Saturday, November 3, 2012

Gingko tree; A pacsirta from Hungarian violinist Joe Beringer; (MBTI) sure put it all together for us!; Kerry's good deed; Bruni

Gingko Biloba trees
grow on South Street in the downtown of Waukesha.
People stride by them mostly without noticing.
The tree in front of the Odd Fellows is recently shown 
in its autumn repose.

The Gingko is a living fossil originating in China.
Here the tree, a species dating back 
270 million years, stands temporary guard
next to the Putney building
- also known as the Old Odd Fellows Hall -
beside the limestone of the 1882 Putney building,
itself made of sediment rock formed
in the Silurian era, much older that the Gingko species.

A bird's nest is seen at the top of our OF Gingko.
Other South Street Gingkos as seen down
this decorous street.

A woman who lives on our floor
and who does some of the cleaning maintenance
in the building including watering the Impatiens
flowers growing along the inner courtyard
bemoans the pesky leaves she has to
sweep up inside the lobby corridor at this
time of year.

As our immediate tree is a female, it
sheds is fruit - actually 'seeds' per Wikipedia -
and the research indicates that when smashed
underfoot they smell of vomit.

On reflection, it occurs to us that such
a plaint relates to the downtown watchdogs
who call vomit to attention as
an unworthy feature 
of our beloved stomping grounds district.

We have no focus or notice of such smelliness.
Walked dogs past our tree
have been often observed
peeing on our Gingko, but that's no matter either;

the Gingko takes all in stride.

The en-crispening fallen leaves
are gathered here for distribution
within snail-mailed notes to certain friends.

A reading of the below website will convince
one of the 'why' of ancient veneration of this leaf form.




To go with the squab from our Odd Fellows windowsill
this week, following a trip across the street
to the last farmer's market of the year
we had a new possibly edible bird 
perched on the sill.

It was a large beaked creature with 
a long warty neck;
it too stared down at the peculiar passers-by
on Waukesha's Five Points.

It reminds us of an old 1970s TV commercial:
"Manpower Business Training Institute
sure put it all together for us!"

We've only to substitute MBTI
"The Odd Fellows window sills....."


Rush Hour

Someone has folded a coat under the boy's head, someone else, an Arab
              businessman in not very good French,
is explaining to the girl, who seems to have discovered, like this, in the
              crowded M├ętro,
her lover is epileptic, that something must be done to keep the boy from
              swallowing his tongue:
he works a billfold between the rigidly clenched teeth as the kneeling
              girl silently looks on,
her expression of just-contained terror transfiguring her, generalizing her
              almost to the mythic,
the very image of our wonder at what can befall the most ordinary afternoon
              of early love.
The spasms quiet, the boy, his left ear scarlet from rubbing the wool,
              comes to, looks up at the girl,
and she, as the rest of us begin to move away, hesitates, then lays her
              cheek lightly on his brow.

"Rush Hour" by C.K. Williams, from Collected Poems. © Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2006.


Kerry McKay's good deed
The Steaming Cup owner
put a whopping dab of whipped cream
meant for his booth customers' coffees
and offered it to a happy small but heart-y dog

(Too bad we cannot draw)

McKay stocks rear kitchen with wagon

He put some of that whipped cream on customers' fingers
earlier this summer at his stand.

Whence comes the raccoon on the election: