Construction On The Hudson

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                                      (Photograph of the view from my balcony; not for sale.)

 

 

I'm sitting outside on the balcony of my apartment-on-the-Hudson enjoying the cooler temperature of this summer morning.  The Hudson River is blue-gray today, with wind-pulled ripples running through it; and the blue, gray and yellow greens of the Palisades, as the 'side wall' of my view, blocking all things west of here (for now).  My daughter tells me about the beauty of her new home, Utah, with its expanse of distant mountain views.  I see nothing to the north, this view blocked by the building I call home.  The east view is so close I can almost touch it, a low apartment building and taller trees than the Palisades that they face, on the other side of the river.  So yes, 'a river runs through it'.  (...I adore Robert Redford and I am smiling now.)  ...Ah, a train runs through it, too.  MTA's Greystone Station, just south of Hastings-on-Hudson and north of NYC; which I am close enough to have in my distant southern view.  Like a new white canvas it is peaceful - except when the train whistle pierces loudly through my balcony's screen door.  It leaves me no choice but to find comfort in the disruption; a crescendo of marks on my canvas that cry out for attention.  But what is the focal point in my landscape?  ...(is it) the thoughts in my head; my stories, dreams and visions?  Or is it this new thing overwhelming the scene -- the construction of a new apartment building on the Hudson? 

The heavy construction equipment, just below my balcony, shaking up the land, tearing up the greens-that-I-love, but exposing the beautiful umbers, siennas and ochres, (I use to begin a painting), in the dirt below.  (mental note: deconstruct, so that we can build-up again.)  If a painting had volume, this would be its sound... whiz, whirl, crash, and the scraping of gray rock against steel claw of massive machinery. For some reason, I see beauty in all that reaching; to have something in its grasp and come out successful.  Those rocks of all sizes, so visually interesting, with a past, a history to this place that is still new to me.  I wonder how long those boulders have been planted firmly to this ground?  How many days will they be laid out here to add texture to this landscape, until they are taken away?  (And where is it they will plant themselves next?) 

 

(So very grateful for your stop along my Journey; Thank you!  -Faith)