I am a native in this world And think in it as a native thinks

Saturday, October 31, 2020

Bonus flashback

Because the week got away from me -- I've been in a crunch of tests and projects and papers while trying to get all my postponed medical appointments done -- here's an extra post. These otherwise ordinary buildings in bright colors made me smile; I hope they'll do the same for you.

Newfoundland, of course, near the harbor in St. Anthony.

Saturday reflections

A rather ordinary building on Eighth Avenue reflects its surroundings back at the city around it. I love that the windows on the right look almost real, but are actually reflections from the building across the street.

Tuesday, October 27, 2020

Astronomy Tuesday

This beautiful star cluster, 47 Tucanae, can be seen with the naked eye near the Small Magellanic Cloud, unfortunately only in the Southern Hemisphere.

Maybe someday.

Image Credit and Copyright: Jose Mtanous

Sunday, October 25, 2020

Sunday bird blogging


A female house sparrow in Central Park.

I'm trying to get in all of my doctor's appointments over the next couple of weeks in case the entire country has to shut down again this winter, and I have several big school assignments coming due, so I don't expect to have anything intelligent to post about until mid-November. 

At least the pictures are pretty!

Saturday, October 24, 2020

Saturday reflections


Windows and brick.

I'm too tired to say anything interesting about them. I had a doctor's appointment downtown this afternoon, and thought I might vote on the way home. 

The line was three blocks long, so no.

Friday, October 23, 2020

Urban poetry


Spirits and Tacos! What else do you need?

I don't drink anything stronger than a beer anymore, but I can verify that the tacos are very good indeed.

Tuesday, October 20, 2020

Astronomy Tuesday

I'm in the mood for a galaxy, so here's NGC 5643 as seen by the Hubble.

I always love the way the blue stars show up so beautifully in a galaxy image like this, but magnificent as they are, it's the small, common yellow stars like our sun that provide an environment where life can flourish. They won't show up in an image like this, their light overwhelmed by that of the supergiants, but they're there, millions of them, each chugging along for the billions of years necessary to form planets capable of creating and sustaining life. Meanwhile the blue giants burn hot and die fast, their only legacy to the universe the heavy elements they create when they explode in a supernova.

Image Credit: ESA/Hubble and NASA, A. Riess et al.; Acknowledgement: Mahdi Zamani

Sunday, October 18, 2020

Sunday bird blogging

Early this morning, my backyard tree was full of mourning doves. There were at least ten of them hanging out and munching on the dying leaves, and I had to get out the binoculars and watch them for a while. I kept thinking Partridges in a pear tree which, except for the partridges and the pears, was totally apropos.

Then a tiny bird on the building behind the tree caught my eye -- there was a woodpecker pecking at the wood window frame. I couldn't tell if it was a downy or a hairy woodpecker -- too far away -- but if it managed to find anything edible in that window, my neighbors are in a lot of trouble.

Here's a downy woodpecker in Central Park, almost certainly having better luck snack-wise than the one I saw this morning.

Saturday, October 17, 2020

Saturday reflections

The New York I've seen so little of these many months: brick and stone and concrete, billboards and water towers, all reflected in a wall of glass.

Friday, October 16, 2020

Urban poetry


This is Patience, one of the two lions guarding the New York Public Library building on Fifth Avenue. (His good pal Fortitude, not pictured, is just to his left.)

The lions, like most New Yorkers, have been wearing masks since the spring, but now they're promoting civic engagement along with good pandemic hygiene.

Plus a pigeon.

Thursday, October 15, 2020

Life in the time of coronavirus

 I'm trying to cram in all of my doctor's appointments during this lull of nice weather and not-yet-fully-resurgent virus. And because I don't want to get on a bus or even into an Uber unless I absolutely have to, I had two very long walks yesterday, to the East Side and back.

It was probably the longest I've been outside since the lockdown began in March and it was wonderful to be just walking the streets of New York again. I was amused to see that the ever-enterprising street vendors are now selling masks with designer names along with the cheap sunglasses and knockoff handbags.

Tuesday, October 13, 2020

Astronomy Tuesday

Something a little closer to home: our moon.

Mare Frigoris, the Sea of Cold, is not, as you might expect, one of the frozen-looking gray patches in this image of the moon's far north, but rather the dark brown swath running from the left to the center. 

The dark brown crater below the mare is Plato, which for some reason I always read as Pluto. It's not quite that cold there.

Image Credit and Copyright: Matt Smith

Sunday, October 11, 2020

Sunday bird blogging

House finches are common in Central Park, so -- at least in the Olden Times when I could go there whenever I damn well felt like it -- I used to see them on a regular basis. 

Now I marvel at this little stripey red creature, which looks as exotic and unlikely as a blue-footed booby. They don't seem to venture south to this neighborhood and it will probably be many weeks before schoolwork leaves me the time and energy to make the trek to the park again.

Saturday, October 10, 2020

Saturday reflections

I had two short papers due today, and turned them in with a whopping 18 minutes to spare before the deadline. So late posting, as is becoming the usual state of affairs.

Anyway, here's a city bus reflecting its own version of 42nd Street back to us. 

(And when I wrote that last sentence, I was immediately reminded that “city bus” was the example I gave in Linguistics class this week for a noun modified by another noun. I've got school on the brain, but honestly these days being able to ignore current events is a blessing.)

Friday, October 9, 2020

Urban poetry


Since Newfoundland feels like such a lovely respite these days, here's a tangle of wire, shadows and light in downtown St. John's.

My classes go until almost 10 pm on Wednesday nights, so when we take our break at 8:45 or so, I've started changing into my pajamas, brushing my teeth and crawling into bed for the second half of class. 

I took a photo of my living room and use that as my Zoom background, so it's not obvious that I've moved to the bedroom. (I don't think I'll be able to get away with the penguin pajamas when the weather gets colder, though.) I mentioned this ruse to another student in a breakout session, and she disabled her own background temporarily to show me that she was actually in bed with her dog.

Zoomworld definitely has its advantages.

Thursday, October 8, 2020

Newfoundland flashback

Those lovely stained glass windows in St. John's have been sitting in a folder for more than a year, and were never posted because they just didn't fit any category -- not really reflections, not really urban poetry. But the shape reminded me of the caves in Dungeon Provincial Park, and so here's a double helping of Canadian beauty.

I'm glad to have something to focus on other than the fact that my latest self-haircut revealed that I have two previously unsuspected bald spots on the back of my head. (Fortunately they're invisible on Zoom.)

Or that when I came back from running a couple of errands on Tuesday I left my keys in my apartment door, and didn't discover it until this morning. Ordinarily one of my neighbors would have noticed and knocked on my door, but none of us go anywhere these days. Fortunately, thieves and axe murderers are also apparently in lockdown so no harm done, but I hope I'm not going to make a habit of this.

Tuesday, October 6, 2020

Astronomy Tuesday

This magnificent view of the Orion Nebula was processed to show only the colors emitted by oxygen, hydrogen and sulfur.

This country, and this world, do not appear to be getting any saner this week -- quite the contrary -- and this picture makes me remember that in the rest of the universe, things not only still make sense, they can be jaw-droppingly beautiful at the same time.

Image Credit and Copyright: César Blanco González

Sunday, October 4, 2020

Sunday bird blogging

I love the way this house sparrow was almost hidden in the grass -- the better to have all that deliciousness for himself.

Saturday, October 3, 2020

Saturday reflections


A shop window in Soho, reflecting some wonderful fire escapes.

I took this picture in 2018, and though I posted it on Instagram for some reason it never made it to the blog.

Urban poetry

Even in a year of non-stop batshit crazy news, this has been an exhausting week.

So here are a few signs from Manhattan Mini Storage that have amused me through the years.

Thursday, October 1, 2020

Life in the time of coronavirus

 A woman sleeping in front of a closed restaurant on West 44th Street.

We're a long way from having this damn virus under control; partly because it's extremely contagious and partly because few governments are willing or able to take the draconian measures necessary. (Also, people are really, really stupid.) 

China is currently reporting a dozen or so new cases daily, an impressive accomplishment and one that may only be possible if you're okay with literally sealing infected people in their apartments. But as the scientists fret about colder weather and flu season leading to a new surge in cases, one of many things that has me losing sleep is the economic impact.

So many jobs lost. So many businesses closed for good. And so many people convinced that you can somehow save the world economy without getting the virus under control first. (Have I mentioned that people are really, really stupid?)

American Airlines just offered me a bonus of 2000 extra miles if I booked a flight now. I wouldn't even get on a crosstown bus, and they think I'm going to get on a plane for a measly incentive like 2000 miles? And where, exactly, would I go? Americans are currently unwelcome in almost every country of the world, and cases are on the rise in 31 states. 

I'm worried there's going to be a global depression, and it's going to be a long one. And that by the time we can finally leave home again, there won't be anywhere left to go.

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