A brief survey of the territory: it looks like some of the papers have declared anarchy. Others sit in silent protest. Some may be ignored, only to be followed up with persistent and insistent reminders that change colors like the terrorist alert. Some have their holding patterns, their right places, their spots. I wouldn’t change them.

    Observe how well the Paper Czar has instituted the pile system!  Advice to  handle things only once has been disregarded. Very good. What does this say? Why be efficient? The mystery deepens. To what system does Paper Czar adhere? 

    A cursory inspection indicates the Paper Czar employs a variation of the determinants: useful, beautiful, interesting  and  in keeping anything that falls into this range  has too few clues as to what to do with it all. Too much of a good thing. Yet, Oscar Wilde has declared: nothing succeeds like excess! You can never be too rich, too thin or have too much paper. Paper is thin. Paper is rich. Newspaper owners are rich.  If  the Paper Czar could get a penny per piece of paper, there would be hundred of thousands of dollars flowing in. (If it’s valuable why don’t you keep it?) If the artist in residence can create a demand, Paper Czar has it made.

   This is a problem in search of a solution and the solution is always in the problem. Now for the work, dear cabinet-maker. Better disposition.

   The little heron that flies up, complaining of being flushed in the dark at 6:45 a.m. is the only heron spotted this morning. The temperature is about 17 degrees and the sun I see at 7:43 popping in over the hill and shining its gold on the creek, priceless.

   I think about the solitary lives of  Edward Hopper and the life of James Castle. I feel removed.

   When I think about a black and red photo in the archives with CHI lettering, around the bend is Ron, running with a red top and black pants. A heron flew from the bank when I first started out. Much of my concentration is directed to the footing, to be sure.

  Harness the power. Palindromic 12/21 today! Use Feng shui. Make it divine. Group by threes. Love every minute.

   Have dreaded tasks? Break it up. Three simple steps.

   Errands to run? List top three. Get it done.

   Undecided on something? List three pros; list three cons. Add more notes. Weigh the sides. Get the picture.

   Choices to make? Narrow to three.  Mix them up. Pick the middle. Or the first. Or the third.

   Green light, yellow light, red light. Go to where? Why go there? Travel how fast? Why slow down? Where is danger? Why use caution? Why not stop? Stop on dime. Time doesn’t stop.

   If you add an H to trees, you get threes. Both are green. Both are wood. Muerto is dead. Eliminate dead wood. Travel Rio Grande. Flower is compass. Wellsville in center for health. Finger Lakes, finger tips and tips of leaves making z’s. Never bored. Always happy.

    When the phrase creative expression crosses my mind, near the metal pipe above the 10 marker, a heron flies away, low over the murky water, its body is that deep and dark slate and Prussian blue combination they show when it is cloudy.

    Today the path leads all the way to the metal bridge, where a red township truck is poised to dump salt at Palisades road. Two maroon vehicles sit in the parking lot. One is a heavy-duty pickup truck and the other looks like it has four-wheel drive. To whom do they belong?

   Wow, there’s a fisherman chest-high in the water, fishing through the snowfall. It’s 25 degrees.

   Return way: a kingfisher twitters in a tree. A real twitter. The heron that flew away flies away again. By the time I reach the red bridge, am feeling cold. The rest rooms are locked, no relief. One mile more to the car. Have to send myself on a…

    …fool’s errand: need to return furnace filter purchased at Target last night and purchase correct size. In a flash of home maintenance brilliance,  had written the dimensions on an exterior label on the furnace. Had copied this figure onto a piece of memo paper. Had remembered to take paper to store. Had located filters in stock. Made the unfortunate discovery the figure (21″)  was incorrect. They come in 20″ or 25″  lengths. I guessed  20 inch. Guess again. Twenty-five is the final answer. Same price. Even exchange. Edit note.

   Walk through the grocery store and find the trend is evident toward “green” packaging that is often brown packaging, e.g. unbleached paper, brown cereal boxes instead of bleached white. Green and brown are the new black and white is out. Or at least, less  in.

   This morning on my walk because it is 25 degrees and I am sick I walk only to the eight marker. Near the barn a white cardboard piece of packaging is on the path. Flipping it over, ballpoint writing appears, Johnny with Santa. It is the cardboard form a disposable camera comes inside.

    Across the road, at the same time, I noticed a large rectangular mirror set out with the trash. From my drive-by perspective, it looked to be in good condition. Was it a curb alert for Craigslist? At any rate, the direction I was heading was opposite; I had no immediate use for a large rectangular mirror that may have been intended for someone else.

   During my walk I saw two leaves placed on the path so there was an equidistant channel between them. I found this bit of parallelism beautiful. Also found near the public area, a small green thin foam toy truck piece. As I combined all of these into one puzzle, the effect seemed too cluttered and I ceased and desisted and left it unfininshed. Days go better when a clear picture emerges and I was chagrined not to make it work. Sometimes its best just to accept and face these things. Et tu, brute.

   The creek is high and full at 6:30 a.m. The barest hint of dawn’s early light strikes the flowing water, looking gray. Orange and yellow reflected light from the houses and street lights bounces off the surface edges.  The creek is so high and full it looks like a river. A cloudy day looms ahead.

   Some mist, just five fellow travellers: three runners and two walkers and I. One heron flies up from the bank at the eight marker. Thoughts about work intrude as I think about the season, observe the tree trunks and the condensed vapor. On my way to the park, a box truck rode in front of my car. The eidetic memory of its rear doors provides the basis of today’s puzzle. Plus a bucket. Value in relationships. A fireplace makes a nice focal point.

    Ashes, ashes we all fall down.

    Why think inside or outside the box when you can think about the box? 

    I get excited by DiMare tomato boxes of sturdy cardboard, with ventilating side slits. I find them curiously sexy, strong and silent. I think they are works of art. Form and function marry, to bring the plump and juicy to market! The goods are perishable; the boxes last forever.

   Vintage apple boxes catch my eye: e.g. Placerville (where one always finishes second?) and pear and grape crates with a graphic touch. Forbidden fruit. Set out with new purpose!

    I think of my own Magic square boxes aka Sudoku rebuses, mixing apples and oranges, numbers and letters, and all-and-nothingness into something new.

   The place where you put your goods. Bring it. Contain thyself.

   This morning’s walk leads east, along the Tulpehocken creek, to the three marker.  A bright and chilly sunrise. Quiet, except the rosy cheeks of two out of three generations of delicate distaff joggers say “It’s cold!” 

   The kittens have reminded me to go to Weis Markets Store #189, the world’s cleanest grocery store. A rare metallic butterfly has alit on the mat inside the entrance, past the holiday greens. A quick pick-me-up. I get it.

   Mental list,  plus physical layout: 

•  Produce before pet food.
•  A green vegetable is the order of the day.
•  The broccoli crowns look good enough to eat.  
•  Kitten chow is now. 

   A few freshly-wrapped boxes adorn the store. The pair nestled directly above the PORK sign at the meat cases are to be admired. The wrapping paper design is red and white with black and white snowflakes. One is taller, with a red bow and one is a little shorter and wider with a silver bow. They come off  like a cute couple, same yet different.   

   A legion of boxes march in rhythmic spacing above the eggs and dairy area. The paper is bright and gay. The paper is white with a multicolored wavy ornament design.  “Hi, Mom!”

    A wrapping paper display, with rolls of these papers, bags of pre-made bows and tissue paper, is just around the corner. Very handy, very convenient and very present. One white tissue pack and one red/green tissue pack leap into my arms. They are 99 cents each. I take them home.   

    This magic square contains fresh (and free!) wrapping paper, color copy from Trees Yearbook of Agriculture 1942 book cover and more. It includes writing from a ledger page.  One side: Boxes, in ink from 1932.  Another side: Produce, in pencil, 1953. Behold this morning’s endurable goods in one neat box, where art matters.  

   Check this out! To discover more about Weis Markets, Where Freshness Matters: http://www.weismarkets.com