Cat hair
everywhere
on the floor and in the air
***
Dog fur
in a blur
mostly on the furniture
***
White fluff
on my stuff
vacuum cleaner has it rough
***
Sometimes
makes me wish
I had opted for a fish
Weekly Photo Challenge: Monochromatic
grey clouds drop grey rain waterway reflects grey sky grey ripples expand
Weekly Photo Challenge: Monochromatic
artful shape shifter viewed from every angle redefined each time
Weekly Photo Challenge: From Every Angle
In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: Creepy
“This week, share an image of something creepy. Unsettling. Eerie. Disgusting.”Okay, I’ll try.
It all started late one afternoon. I had gone out for a walk, hoping to get a little fresh air before the sun went down. I headed for the nearby woods, my favorite place to go when I wanted peace and solitude. As I neared the forest, I noticed something strange.
Some of the trees appeared to have been bent sideways. Not broken or blown over, just contorted, as if some unseen force were pulling the tree tops back toward the ground.
Several of the trees were oozing a thick substance from their trunks. I moved closer to inspect it.
The bark on the trees appeared to be bubbling, turning to a dark sludge that clung to the trunks,…
…writhing beneath some kind of acid that ate away at the bark. It smelled horrible.
Suddenly the sky darkened and a powerful wind thrashed the treetops.
I felt something tugging at my feet, and looked down just in time to see a black vortex opening in the ground beneath me. I was sucked violently downward, right through the forest floor.
I found myself in a dark cave. There were stunted stalactites protruding from the ceiling of the cave, emitting an eerie light that cast a strange hue about the cavern.
As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I saw something glowing at my feet. Was that a skull?
Suddenly I felt a sharp pain in my arm, as a shadow flitted past me and away into the darkness. Something or someone had slashed a hole in my denim jacket sleeve. I could feel warm liquid trickling down my arm.
A green eye gleamed from the shadows, …
…and other strange creatures shifted in and out of view. I screamed.
The ceiling of the cave cracked open, and I was suddenly sucked upwards in a shaft of bright light.
I must have fainted, but when I came to, I was relieved to see that I was back on the lawn just outside my home. It was just beginning to get dark. Had this all been a dream?
A voice shouted from behind me.
“There she is!” Two men, dressed all in white approached me, and grabbed my arms as they began dragging me toward a nearby building.
“How’d she get out?” one of the men asked.
“I don’t know,” replied the other. “But it won’t happen again!”
I felt a sharp poke in my upper arm, and everything faded to black.
When I awoke, I was back in my room, lying on the bed, with the bare light bulb overhead glaring into my eyes. I sat up. I must have dreamt all those strange experiences.
Everything was just the way it had been when I had gone to bed last night. My denim jacket was lying across the foot of the bed. I remembered that it had been torn in my dream.
I picked up the jacket and began examining the sleeves. Nothing. So it had been a dream after all. I sighed with relief.
Then I felt something in one of the pockets. I wasn’t allowed to carry any personal possessions, so I couldn’t imagine what it might be. I reached in and touched it, but I couldn’t tell what it was. I pulled it out of my pocket.
A vacant eye stared at me from a still warm skull. Was that a shred of denim in its beak?
I dropped the skull and turned to run from the room, but the door was locked from the outside. Pounding on the door, I shouted for someone to come let me out. The door opened suddenly, and a white-clad orderly stepped in.
“Good evening, Maggie. It’s time for your medication. We wouldn’t want you having any more of those nightmares, now would we?”
Iconic carpet underfoot at The PDX Project art exhibit “A Farewell to the PDX Carpet.”
We never seem to appreciate a good thing until we lose it. And sometimes things don’t even become appreciable until we face losing them. Case in point, the iconic PDX carpet in Portland, Oregon.
Granted, the old carpet at the Portland International Airport (PDX) is — shall we say — tacky. Designed in 1987 and installed in the early 90s, the teal background features a geometric pattern intended to represent the intersection of the north and south runways at PDX as seen from the control tower at night.
Original PDX carpet (1990s to 2015)
I’ve trodden the carpet a number of times, mostly to meet incoming friends or relatives, or to see them off on some adventure. And I never gave the floor beneath me a second thought. The first thought, however, was as I’ve previously stated, “tacky.” Worn and stained teal just isn’t my favorite color. Nor does it match my luggage. Which is black. That tells you how bad it is.
So when I started seeing photos appear on Instagram and Facebook of people’s feet on the carpet, I didn’’t get it. I went to my source of all things trendy quirky (my daughters), and learned that there is a cult following of the PDX carpet, and that that’s a “thing” now, photographing your feet as you pass through the airport.
Foot photo on the original PDX carpet.
The PDX carpet has its own Wikipedia entry, its own Facebook page with 13,000 likes, and its own Instagram hashtag (#pdxcarpet) with almost 64,000 photos to date. Oh, and it was the Grand Marshall in this year’s annual Portland Starlight Parade.
The recent spike in popularity of the PDX carpet seems driven by the fact that the 25 year old design is being retired as a new carpet installation is underway. Yes, the 14 acres of teal carpet are disappearing as we speak. Well, not disappearing. As is typical of many outmoded items in Portland, the carpet is being repurposed. The grottiest parts will be recycled, but the remaining pieces are available for sale in various shapes and forms.
Carpet-adorned piano at The PDX Project art exhibit “A Farewell to the PDX Carpet.”
While the carpet has been referred to as a “hipster icon,” I find myself climbing onto the nostalgia bandwagon, too (and I assure you I am not hipster). So of course I had to go to the art exhibit that was set up in Portland to honor the retiring carpet.
Not a very large exhibit, and not overly impressive, but oh-so-Portlandia. I got to photograph my feet on the carpet one last time, play the PDX-upholstered piano, and check out other carpet-inspired art.
I haven’t seen the new carpet yet. In the shadow of the original PDX carpet, it will have some pretty big shoes to, um, underlay. My guess is that, while it may never reach Grand Marshall status, it will probably eventually be embraced in its own right.
That’s just the way Portland is.
Panel from The PDX Project art exhibit “A Farewell to the PDX Carpet.”
Weekly Photo Challenge: Beneath Your Feet
nature’s Midas touch renews each dawn rendering night’s shadows to gold
Weekly Photo Challenge: Half and Half
tenuous flame clings to woven hope lest it drown in the molten sea
staving off darkness one brief flicker at a time your candle lights mine
I will light your way I will make your shadows dance you will feed the flame
Weekly Photo Challenge: Symbol
“As a child, I always knew it was springtime when I opened my bedroom window and caught the subtle, heartwarming aroma of the season’s first blossoms wafting across the swamplands of home. Yep, if the skunk cabbage was blooming, summer was just around the corner.”
If you were to ask me my favorite flower, I might tell you it is the Lysichiton americanus. But that would be far too pretentious. You know that whole “a rose by any other name would smell as sweet” line? A Lysichiton americanus, by its other name, smells like… well, like its namesake.
“Skunk cabbage” didn’t get its name from any black-and-white striped color scheme. It’s named for its distinctive “skunky” odor. So am I joking that it’s my favorite flower? Nope.
Growing up in a “wetland” area (formerly known as a swamp), the smell of skunk cabbage was indeed a harbinger of spring, which meant warmer weather and maybe just a tad less rain. Or maybe it meant warmer rain and a tad less weather. I forget.
But the symbolism of the skunk cabbage doesn’t just stop at being a seasonal reminder. Despite its stinky name, the plant is quite beautiful. Large, lush green leaves, bright yellow flowers. It livens even the fustiest of swamplands. And it does so by rising regally out of its surrounding mud and mire.
Somehow I find that inspiring. More so than a hothouse rose or a pampered orchid. It is raw no-fuss nature at its best. Simple beauty despite its odoriferous moniker. To me it symbolizes dignity, poise – maybe even grace – while amidst the muck of worldly living.
So, come Mother’s Day or my birthday or any other day one might be compelled to send me a bouquet of flowers, let it be roses. Come on, you didn’t expect me to say skunk cabbage, did you? Symbolism only goes so far.
Weekly Photo Challenge: Symbol
What Rhymes with Stanza? 