Nostalgia - a world of a not so grown-up grown up

The Barren Winter Treescape

2011-12-18T19:08:00.001-08:00

The Winter Scenery now everywhere. Come April and the bright green new leaves will emerge. Come May and I will forget how bare the trees look, during winter, without the leaves!! Amazing Nature

Minihaha Fall in Minnesota At Evening

2011-11-29T16:55:00.000-08:00

Dragonfly

2011-07-27T06:08:00.000-07:00

Delicate Droplets

2011-07-24T18:52:00.000-07:00

Peas in a Pod

2010-03-10T06:07:00.001-08:00

Taken in Fisherman's Wharf at Monterey Bay in California

The Thief

Flow of life

2010-03-09T04:58:00.000-08:00

The photo was taken in Muir Woods National Forest in San Francisco, an amazing and dreamy place to visit. The water was cold and moving fast over the boulders and rocks. It was absolutely treacherous trying to walk or stand over the boulders/rocks. But the mosses were clinging tightly to them and water simply could not lodge them away (I am trying my best to write some poetic English :-)).

Sunrise

The Wise One in Yosemite

2010-02-17T03:43:00.000-08:00

Life Amid Harshness

2010-01-04T05:21:00.000-08:00

The picture was taken in New Jersey on January 1, 2010. The weather was like arctic - bitter cold - with temperature around -16 degree C, windy and light snow. Everything was frozen, white and covered with ice or snow. Amidst these were present the greenery of evergreen trees

My Tiny World

2009-04-18T04:38:00.000-07:00

Wandering Travellers

2009-04-10T14:30:00.000-07:00

They must have lost their way along the bay-road and got wounded up in ocean (Atlantic). I am not making up and to prove that, here is another picture :-).

Surya'r Chaash

2009-03-13T16:14:00.001-07:00

Sleepy Head

2008-09-20T06:46:00.000-07:00

Destiny?

2008-09-06T04:32:00.000-07:00

I travel along a winding path that will take me where I do not know.

Can You See Me?

2008-09-06T04:18:00.000-07:00

The picture is taken in front of our house. We live very close to NYC (Manhattan is like about 20 minutes drive), but the area is still full of wilderness, greeneries, and other animals (deers, rabbits, groundhogs, raccoons, you name it). Luckily we don't have any black bears (they are common in other areas which are also suprisingly close to NYC, like about 30-40 minutes drive) and cockroaches (there must be but I am yet to see one :-) ).

The Red Beauty

2008-08-24T14:25:00.000-07:00

Yuum..Yuum..

2008-08-23T07:50:00.000-07:00

Indian-style Pizza

How to prepare? Take pieaces of breads (doesn't matter - whole wheat, multi-grain, white, whatever). Put either Spicy Tomato and Cardamom Cooking Sauce or Lahori Rogan Josh sauce or any indian-style cooking sauce (which are nowadays available in any grocery store, at least in NY/NJ/Boston areas). Put some salad on top. Sprinkle red-chilly powder (optional) and cheese. Put inside a microwave for 1.5 minutes :-)

I Welcome You With My Open Palms

2008-08-21T16:35:00.000-07:00

What's Up!

2008-08-20T07:17:00.001-07:00

The Ostrich by Jennifer Leigh

The caring father watches the eggs
So mother can go off and stretch her legs
When the chicks hatch out - there is such a noise
But no one can tell the girls from the boys

When the males grow up their feathers are black
With snowy white ones showing through a crack
The female's are a dull grey brown
All ostrich feathers feel like silky down.

The largest bird in the world so wide.
With very strong legs and a leather hide
Although he can't fly - he runs with much power
Yet can gently shelter his young from a shower.
He digs a hole with his toe like a hoof
With his feathered wings he makes them a roof

If there is something he want's to avoid
Rather than letting himself get annoyed
What does he do - this very strange bird?
He buries his head in a hole - how absurd!
Or is it?

Source: An Interesting Site

Foodaholic

2008-08-19T08:20:00.000-07:00

I propose to jog and lose weight; brain disposes and I eat and gain weight.

The city of bridges

2008-08-18T07:20:00.000-07:00

This is a picture from Minnesota, and I have given the city a new name - the city of bridges. The whole city is connected like these types of bridges. During winter when the temperate plummets to about 20 below zero and hip-depth snow accumulates everywhere, people do not need to walk on the street. They can go from one building to another to almost anywhere in the city using all these connected bridges. I don't live in Minnesota and have no experience of its winter. But I would love to visit all these frigid places (Minnesota, Alaska, Dakotas, Wisconsin and of course Antarctica, Artic, Iceland, Greenland) during winter to experiences. And also I like this concept of interconnected city, much like from science-fictions. Here how the insides of these bridges look like

Snarly

2008-08-16T19:42:00.000-07:00

Is this a baby raccoon?

We found it outside our home, one evening, crying out loudly. We looked around to find any bigger version of this animal (it's mum/dad/uncles/aunts) but didn't find any. So, we wrapped it in blankets and bought inside our home. It was quivering quite violently. So, we put it inside the box and having no idea what it was, we tried to make it drink water and eat some lettuce/grapes (of course without any avail). A telephone call to the wildlife office informed us that it could be a raccoon and we would be better be careful as it could attack us. Of course that evening we didn't believe the officer and caressed the little fella and tried to make it as comfortable as possible with blankets and sheets and waters and all sorts of fruits and vegetables. But came morning and lo and behold it showed it's true form. That is why I called him/her Snarly.

Raccoon, Raccoon
by Pam Miller

Raccoon, raccoon,
Up in a tree,
Raccoon, Raccoon,
You can't see me.
Raccoon, raccoon,
I can see you
Eating fish and corn and birds' eggs too.
Raccoon, raccoon,
Hunting at night,
Raccoon, raccoon,
Sleeps in daylight.

The Ballerinas

2008-08-16T05:24:00.000-07:00

I don't know what these yellow flowers are called. But they were everywhere in the campuse of University of Oregon at Corvallis. And they would sway in the light breeze as if dancing. In the early morning, with the sun shining on part of them, it would literally appear as if they are greeting and welcoming the sun through their graceful ballet. And whenever I see yellow flowers, I don't know why but my heart starts pumping faster, I feel very light-headed, glee and happy and remember my favorite poem (perhaps this poem influenced me from at a very early age).

Daffodils" (1804)

I WANDER'D lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the Milky Way,
They stretch'd in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed -- and gazed -- but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

By William Wordsworth (1770-1850).

Twin Sisters or Lovers?

2006-04-20T11:12:00.000-07:00

Trees, fields and snow-capped mountains behind my college

A Fool For Evergreen by James A. Emanuel

A little bit of fool in me
Hides behind my inmost tree
And pops into the narrow path
I walk blindfolded by my wrath
Or shrunken by some twist of pain,
Some hope that will not wind again.
He ogles with his antic eyes
and somersaults a you're-not-wise
Until the patches in his pants
Go colorwheeling through my glance
So fast that I cannot recall
That I was mad or sad at all.
A little bit of fool in me
Keeps evergreen my inmost tree.

Serenity In Solitude

2006-04-17T22:53:00.000-07:00

A small grassy field, just beneath my aparment window, with her share of bushes, weeds and trees sloped down to this isolated lonely marina and this boat was always tied there, never used!

The Golden Boat by Rabindranath Tagore

Clouds rumbling in the sky; teeming rain.
I sit on the river bank, sad and alone.
The sheaves lie gathered,harvest has ended,
The river is swollen and fierce in its flow.
As we cut the paddy it started to rain.

One small paddy-field, no one but me -
Flood-waters twisting and swirling everywhere.
Trees on the far bank;smear shadows like ink
On a village painted on deep morning grey.
On this side a paddy-field, no one but me.

Who is this, steering close to the shore
Singing? I feel that she is someone I know.
The sails are filled wide,she gazes ahead,
Waves break helplessly against the boat each side.
I watch and feel I have seen her face before.

Oh to what foreign land do you sail?
Come to the bank and moor your boat for a while.
Go where you want to,give where you care to,
But come to the bank a moment, show your smile -
Take away my golden paddy when you sail.

Take it, take as much as you can load.
Is there more? No, none, I have put it aboard.
My intense labour here by the river -
I have parted with it all, layer upon layer;
Now take me as well, be kind, take me aboard.

No room, no room, the boat is too small.
Loaded with my gold paddy, the boat is full.
Across the rain-sky clouds heave to and fro,
On the bare river-bank, I remain alone -
What had has gone: the golden boat took all.

They Stay, We Leave

2006-04-16T09:24:00.000-07:00

Part of a view from outside my ex-apartment

The Last Adventure
By Jan Struther (Joyce Maxtone Graham)

You think yourselves the adventurous ones, you young ones,
And us becalmed, torpid, our days uneventful,
Our blood stagnant, our minds' antennae blunted:
But I, who was young and now am old, can tell you
There is no adventure like the adventure of age.

No speed that you, steel-nerved, hazard your lives for
Can touch our terrible speed. Faster and faster
Night's poles flash by us, day's wires dip between them;
While we, breathless, dizzy, strung, precarious,
(To your eyes tranquil, rug-wrapped) stare from the window.

No zest of pioneer in a new country,
No quiver and shock of beauty first-time-tasted
Can match our sharpened zest, our quickened perception,
Who, at each day's encounter with familiar beauty,
Ask ourselves: "Is this for the last time?"

You are lusty in love, but you never held woman dearer
Than we hold life, our slim one, our slender darling,
Our sweet, fleet, fickle and false tormentor,
Who stands always on tiptoe, poised to leave us,
Bound to us only by the strength of our will to keep her.

And what's your joy of battle, your pride of conquest
To ours, forlorn defenders of a doomed salient,
Who stave off day by day, grotesquely accoutred
With sword-umbrella, cuirass of antiphlogistine,
The trained, bloody and invincible troops of death?

Humbly Tall

2006-04-15T09:21:00.000-07:00

I took this picture in a small town in Washington, USA

Lost
by David Wagoner

Stand still. The trees ahead and bushes beside you
Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here,
And you must treat it as a powerful stranger,
Must ask permission to know it and be known.
The forest breathes. Listen. It answers,
I have made this place around you,
If you leave it you may come back again, saying Here.
No two trees are the same to Raven.
No two branches are the same to Wren.
If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you,
You are surely lost. Stand still. The forest knows
Where you are. You must let it find you.