Archive for Journal

I love New York/River report

Still chilly in the park by the river these mornings. Sharp waves on the water, though sunny and bright. The buffleheads are still here, and the Brants and mergansers, too. Snowdrops have been up about two weeks. Nothing else is blooming, but now that the snow’s gone crocuses, daffodils, and even tulips are slicing up through the soil as fast as they respectably can. Joggers and dog walkers are much more cheery and numerous than they have been for months. Today, I watched a guy with a dog setting up orange cones. He’d tell the dog to go ahead, the dog would sniff and then nose over one of the cones. The guy would take the treat the dog had unearthed and give it to her. They did this a number of times. They were both obviously having fun and I finally had to ask the guy what they were doing.

He told me, “We’re playing three-cone monte.”

I love New York.

Thirteenth Saturday

Young gull soars and dives —

Cold wind pushes him backwards —

Lands between two ducks.

Choppy waves rush south.

Mergansers bob up and down,

Under dull gray sky.

Red winter jacket:

Would that I could wash you now

And pack you away!

Trip to Dead Horse Bay

Went out to Dead Horse Bay Saturday with my buddy Jim.

jim being intrepid

Jim being intrepid

Our goal: to see the huge flock of scaup (20,000 or so) gathering from various places in NY harbor so they can head back north together. Also saw oystercatchers, brant geese, American black ducks, and a single merganser, looking indignant as only mergansers can. My camera’s not powerful enough to capture the birds at a distance, except for this one photo, when the flock came in close.

tiny fragment of scaup flock

tiny fragment of huge scaup flock

boulder and ghost tree

boulder and ghostly tree

The beach at Dead Horse Bay is famous for glass and ceramic debris going back a hundred years. New bits and pieces wash up all the time.

dead horse bay debris

dead horse bay debris

dead horse bay debris

dead horse bay debris

dead horse bay debris

dead horse bay debris

Also, about half a dozen boats are in various stages of dereliction on the sand, though it’s unclear whether they were abandoned there, or elsewhere and they washed up there.

barnacles on abandoned boat

barnacles on abandoned boat

graffiti on abandoned boat

graffiti on abandoned boat

It was a cold day, but boy, it was fun.

(Click on any photo to see more on Flickr.)

Twelfth Saturday

Merganser pops up.

Fishless, he looks indignant,

Arches, dives again.

Heavy wet white snow

Caps steel rail, blue walkway light,

Clings to tree’s north side.

Lone log bobbing north.

Gull slides down to take a look,

Circles and flies off.

DARK CITY LIGHTS contest!

Lawrence Block edited this anthology and I’m proud to be in it along with Jonathan Santlofer, Ed Park, Jim Fusilli, Robert Silverberg, Jane Dentinger, Thomas Pluck… Enough already. Here’s the point: I have an ARC to give away and I’m giving it to a random new “Like” on my Author Page.

So go on over there and hit the button, and maybe it’ll be you! Oh, there’s one catch — you have to promise to review it, on Amazon, on B&N.com, on Goodreads, on your own blog, wherever you want. You don’t have to promise to like it, just to review it, though if you don’t find more to like than dislike in it I’ll be a monkey’s uncle.

Eleventh Saturday

Bobbing buffleheads,

Aloof, floating mergansers,

Share prime fishing grounds.

Fog-grayed buildings, trees,

Olive water, iron sky —

Bright red umbrella.

Rain falls in river.

Circles in waves’ complex weave,

Swirled by strong current.

Eleventh Saturday

Bobbing buffleheads,

Aloof, floating mergansers,

Share prime fishing grounds.

Fog-grayed buildings, trees,

Olive water, iron sky —

Bright red umbrella.

Rain falls in river.

Circles in waves’ complex weave,

Swirled by strong current.

Chin Yong-Yun (Lydia’s mother!)

I wrote a whole slew of short stories last fall, and some of you were kind enough to ask where they were going to be published. Well, two are narrated by Lydia Chin’s mother, and this is where one of those landed.

eqmm march-april

And just in case your local newsstand doesn’t carry it, you can buy it here.

Women’s wrestling in Mongolia

You heard me. Here’s the scoop.

Tenth Saturday

Three crows heading west.

Gull soars, dips, circles beneath.

They fly like arrows.

Across the river,

Dusting roofs, ledges, hillside:

Powdered sugar snow.

Cloudless bright blue sky.

Icy wind, choppy water.

Steady beaming sun.