bowed over the door–
permeate the door
the bethel door
cast in echos–
behind the echos the door waits, bathed in light—luminous
Holy Trinity Church has wonderful doors–above is a close up of one of the three main entrances. But the rectory doors are also beautiful–and the gate to the parish center, and the side door too.
One of the homeless men waiting for the parish center to open particularly wanted me to photo the statue inside. So I did.
My poem is a tritina, a form I haven’t attempted in a long time, for Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday, where Willow Willers provided the synonym words, twilight and hue.
In other (excellent!) news, Nina drove into the city for a visit and lunch–we haven’t seen each other since January 2020. She brought me a wonderful pot of succulents, which I put by the window in my workspace. What a treat, on all counts. She promises to post something soon.
And here are some of the flowers now blooming in Riverside Park. It’s still quite warm, and they seem to like it.
You can join in Thursday doors here.
I noticed this intriguing door on one of my recent walks. I wonder what it’s going to become inside? I’ll keep an eye on it.
Everything around here is still green. I was reading that some people think the delayed autumn foliage is due to (what else) climate change. We are still having most days in the 70s in NYC–not normal for October at all.
There’s just a hint of color here and there.
Jimsonweed update–photos from 9/19, 9/26, and last weekend.
The parks department had been hard at work, clearing small growth next to trees and walkways. I hope they were wearing gloves! At any rate, they seem to have left some seeds, so I’ll have to watch next spring to see if something sprouts anew.
And this little dino was left out in the trash looking forlorn. Sometimes the sanitation people decorate their trucks with stuffed animals they find in the garbage on their routes. Perhaps that was what happened to him.
You can find more Thursday doors here.
I spent my childhood in Ohio and Maryland,
but for most of my life I’ve lived in Manhattan.
The name comes from the language of the Lenape people,
recorded in the ledger of Henry Hudson’s ship, Half Moon, in 1609: Manna-hata.
“the place where they gather wood to make bows”–
the Lenape valued the hickory trees of Manhattan.
My first residence was a dorm room on West 27th Street;
My first job was in a clothing store on Lexington Avenue.
The Number 1, the 42nd Street Shuttle, and the Number 6–
those were my first subway lines in Manhattan.
My work offices were mostly in the Garment Center on Broadway,
but one was on the Avenue of the Americas in Manhattan.
When I freelanced most of my clients were located between 34th Street and 42nd Street–
but I also worked for people in the West Village, on the Lower East Side, and in Soho in Manhattan.
I have lived on or near West 21st, 27th, 82nd, 95th, 111th, 113th, 135th, 152nd, and 162nd Streets,
and on Bank Street, Hudson Street, Broadway, and West End Avenue in Manhattan.
Clinton Street was where I lived in Brooklyn–
but it didn’t take me long to return to Manhattan.
The Garment District, the West Village, Chelsea, the Upper West Side, Morningside Heights, Harlem, Hamilton Heights, and Washington Heights—
those are the regional names of the places I’ve lived in Manhattan.
I have always wondered if my Dutch ancestors, the Van Lents, lived in New Amsterdam–
or if I am the first descendant on my mother’s side to reside in Manhattan
Sherry at earthweal asked us to consider the names “of the places most beloved to us.” I don’t think she was thinking of cities, or of numbers as names, but Manhattan island is, and has been, my home, where my history resides, for 50 years now. And many of its names are numbers.
For Thursday doors, I could only find photos of the front doors of 3 of my residences. I took the top one recently–it’s my first uptown apartment, a Columbia University building, where I moved during a transition period in my life. A former roommate, then a Columbia grad student, lived there with her roommate and a rotating series of friends and boyfriends.
Here’s the inside of the apartment door where I spent the early lockdown of the pandemic. Not very appealing. But my windows looked out on the subway and a playground and Broadway. Noisy but light.
Here’s the inside door of my apartment now–much more to my liking, even though you walk right into the kitchen. And I also have lots of light, my top priority in a living space.
My poem was inspired by Natasha Trethewey’s wonderful ghazal “Miscegenation”.
And you can join in Thursday doors here.
mark not words, but boundaries–
you call them kindred
because they verge on your dreams
waves of receding
spirits returning like stars,
still and glittering
naked and exposed inside the lens of your life
My first sevenling poem, for Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday challenge with synonyms for family and peace.
I took the above photo on Broadway, somewhere in the 80s I think. If you look closely you can see my headless figure.
This door belongs to a Con Ed substation at 110th and Amsterdam. The building itself is unmemorable, but I like the design of the door.
I spotted these flowers a few weeks ago when walking in Riverside Park. I had never seen what I thought to be an oak tree flowering before.
I could not figure out its identity until this weekend I saw it had seed pods. They were instantly identifiable online–jimson weed.
A toxic member of the nightshade family, although it does have medicinal and hallucinogenic uses. Evidently animals know to steer clear, but humans fall prey to its effects on a regular basis, not always accidentally.
And I wanted to share the view of the tower of light taken from my window Saturday night.
You can join in Thursday doors here.
looking for doors looking
for ways to connect
one with another–
walking and looking
for the one door that becomes the center,
the pivot that marks where I turn around
should I retrace my path?
or sit for awhile
and consider how
I came to be here,
thinking of all the doors I haven’t seen–
they are not lost—just waiting to be found
I photographed this mansion on Riverside Drive awhile ago, but my front views were not very good, so I made a special trip back to photograph the front again.
You can’t get close to the front, but the side, on West 89th Street, is very accessible–you can even drive into the doorway.
Built by Isaac Rice, an attorney and investor, in the early 1900s, in 1907 it was sold to cigarette manufacturer Solomon Schinasi, and then to a Yeshiva in 1954. There was a huge battle in 1980 over whether it should be landmarked or sold to a developer who would have knocked it down and built another highrise–Landmarks won out, and it remains a cash-strapped school.
And see more Thursday Doors here. Although Dan is on vacation this week, there are lots of previous posts to peruse.
I’ve always liked this house on West End Ave. The entrance is on the side.
I couldn’t get a straight on angle to photo the door. It has nice details on the top and in the surrounding arch.
And here’s some flowers I saw while walking along Columbus Avenue.
You can see more doors and join in here.
some call the city a jungle,
I do like arched doors, and here are a few I saw on my travels around NYC last week. The one above and below were on opposite ends of the same block.
I’ve written a zeno poem for Colleen’s #TankaTuesday with synonyms for green and morass. We can now use any form from the poet’s collective list.
Here’s an arched side door next to some scaffolding, ubiquitous in Manhattan.
And some greenery and hydrangeas from the city parks–we are still getting a lot of rain.
My younger daughter used to play softball on this field in Central Park. It was a foggy day, and the fields were closed on account of being so wet. hence the red flag.
You can see more and join in here for Thursday Doors.
let yourself be
enchanted with each moment
as it appears
July makes me long for the ocean, so my grid is composed of ocean doors. But I also found a blue house door into the garden level of a brownstone that makes me think its owners are reminding themselves too every day of the sea.
You can join Thursday Doors here.
There is nothing else than now. There is neither yesterday, certainly, nor is there any tomorrow. How old must you be before you know that?
— Ernest Hemingway (For Whom the Bell Tolls,1940)
cocooned in green light
I am nowhere but right here
dappled by these trees
Central Park right now is green, green, green.
Jade at dVerse asked us to choose one of the Hemingway quotes she provided and write a poem in response. I shortened the quote for my short response.
And because it’s Thursday, I’m including some firehouse doors from new and old neighborhoods. Firefighters are very much aware of the nowness of life.
Although I think you could make the case for doors in the Central Park photos as well…
Your can add your own doors and see many others at Thursday Doors.
I went back to the turret house I photographed a few weeks ago to try to get a better photo of both the building and the entrance door. Above is the door.
And here’s a view of the entire house, taken from the park across the street on Riverside Drive.
This was my original photo.
I’m also posting some (to me) magical flowers I keep seeing on my walks in Riverside Park. I tried to figure out what they were online with no luck. Does anyone know?
I know exactly where they are–at 106 Street–because there is the statue of Franz Sigel across the street at the top of the steps. My longest residence anywhere in my life was up those steps, down 106 Street one block, and in the middle of the block to the left on West End Avenue. But I’ve never seen these flowers before.
I hope they continue to plant them every year!
It’s Thursday, so I’m linking to Thursday Doors.