So here’s an odd thing. I was attempting to photograph the duct tape that some enterprising soul has used to fix a broken window here. But what I captured was a wonderful set of reflections. The duct tape hardly matters, does it? This little building is nearly a sway-backed temple to the sky and surrounding trees.

My good friend S says that, watching the clouds, something happens where he feels that if such lovely puffs of vapor can be pulled off in this world then regardless of the challenges w/which it presents him, it’s an ok place to be.

Can you quite make out the clouds above the trees above the ice-cream sign here? Lovely things echoing each other.

I’m on a photos-of-corrosion kick. Look at these CHAIRS.

So one of the things I adore about this image is that the submerged paper has become so much a part of the mucky little pond landscape. Like a fish skeleton might.

No means no, people.

Oh my ladies and gents. Downtown Chicago is the best place to watch spring happen. These buildings, these solid shapes and solid colors that extend in every cardinal direction and also UP help you keep track of the weather like nothing else. So here’s some fog, rolling in at mid-building height.

(a swimming pool)

Also the only bit of space not covered in golfing young fashonistos or babies or dogs big enough to eat babies.

A. tells me she asked this guy what his secret was.  Apparently, he gets what he needs at the hardware store.  Which makes him the worst kind of people: the kind who get these results without trying, and for whom expending effort for them is sort of unthinkable.

About A.’s own work with urban ag, suffice it to say that there are humorously-colored vegetables.  Advice from carrot-man is unnecessary.