up and down, on a knoll

 

the farm. december 2011. 

headed to camp early tomorrow. listening to etta james and the peaches. quiche and cookies for the ride. friends and music to pass the time. bear dog at the end.

still lives

 

the farm. december 2011. 

christmas eve

the farm. december 2011.

out for a walk at sundown on the farm, in the hills above santa rosa. family strolling around in groups with coats on, or standing on the porch, or just lounging inside, warm.

solstice morning

home. dec 21 2011.

it was so good to talk to you at that concert. so good to laugh and reminisce and forget about the thick crowds around us. when you reached out and casually squeezed my arm, just above the elbow, i felt it in my whole body. it was like something that was clenched loosened. my awareness turned towards you. i wanted it again, just that squeeze, that hand wrapped around my arm briefly, easily, connecting us for a moment.

i want that again, now. i want to feel your hand on my arm, i want to know you're there, standing next to me, listening and laughing and happy to be with me, just as i am happy to be with you.

late dawn, winter desert

mojave desert. november 2010.

happy winter solstice!

threading the eye

bryce canyon. november 2009.

a mystical drive. a storm hit overnight, and fine snow dust was swirling across the road. i'd broken my camera the day before, and so was recording the final two days of my trip with a disposable. that road was so lonesome, so isolated. it was beautiful, but i was glad to leave.


....



it's late, and i'm alone. i'll go outside and unplug the christmas lights in a moment, lock the door, and climb in bed to read about cleopatra and anthony. i wonder if i'll dream about that cold, stormy road when i close my eyes to sleep. i wonder if i'll relive the awe, fear, thrill, giddiness of driving alone through a storm, with only music and a map to direct my wanderings. it would have eased me to have someone there with me, to sit quietly by as the grainy snow gathered and swept across my view, draping the road in gauze then wiping it clean. i remember one ribbon of black wet road, plastered to the wall of a canyon like a gash in the earth. the road curved and wound, hurtling down until it reached the plain, and a town. it's strange how a group of strangers can somehow make you feel more alone than an empty car and an empty road, with nothing there before you.

at home, pre-eclipse

the other north oakland. december 2011.

tilt up sun down

adeline street, west oakland. october 2011.



who knows what the future holds
or where the cards may fall
but if you don't come out west with me
you many never know at all

come out west and see


an excerpt from west, by lucinda williams

merlin

redwood park, oakland. november 2011.

uplit palm

city hall. december 2011.

there is a bright pink that seems only to exist when it is glancing off the bottom of striated clouds just before they fall into darkness. glory before a quick death. if the cloud wasn't there to catch it, would the color exist?

hang on

jack london square. october 2011.

pedalfest. biking...in a circle? this "bike" had seven seats and chains, but only one steering wheel and three fat little go cart tires. i sat backwards.

decoration

martinez. october 2011.

drinking duo

martinez, ca. october 2011.

a pair of water fountains.

at the end of the street

jack london. september 2011.

late evening on a thursday. a beautiful, well-designed building and two port horses, unused, sitting in the low light.

the art of protest

occupy oakland. november 2011.

solidarity

occupy oakland. november 2011.

create live dream

occupy oakland. november 2011.

7:10 sunset

rockridge bart. october 2011.

how quickly the time does change. day light savings time coming up soon...

jumbled

chevron refinery, northeast bay. october 2011.

over the edge

bay. october 2011.

stairs connecting the top to the bottom on the new east span bay bridge.

a bridge is born

bay. october 2011.

metal boat

bay. october 2011.

left turn

bay. october 2011.

on a boat tour of the new east span of the bay bridge. woo hoo!

bridges are forever

selby (north of richmond). october 2011.

that's alotta infrastructure.

why it's worth getting up early in the morning

train to martinez. october, 2011.

watercolor landscape

northbay coast. october 2011.

out the train window, pointing the lens straight ahead so no reflection creeps into the picture. a blurry predawn shot of the bay.

walter a. wood

martinez. october, 2011.

seat of some sort of farming tool meant to be dragged by animals, left sitting in a yard in martinez.

a mist slowly rising

lost coast. november 2008.

my first vacation as an employed individual, post grad school. shortly after this photo the clouds cleared to a perfectly blue sky, and i remember thinking to myself as i walked along the beach, "this is what my life will be like, now. i can just take time off and go on trips and not have anything to worry about." and i remember feeling so free -- of all the worries of grad school, and unemployment, and living at home. i was completely in the moment, taking pictures of waves, observing the extending coastline stretching north. i was a person on a beach, and that's exactly where i was meant to be.

evin, after a cold swim

a river northwest of chico. march 2009.

ice in the grid

camp. april 2010.

a thinly frosted fence on a chilly morning.

oh the edge of the dance floor

durham, nh. october 2010.

maya, and sarah next to her, getting ready to launch back into the dance floor. dana's wedding, winding down.

spoon me

mad hatter tea party. july 2010.

i feel the winter bearing down on me. it's not the darkness so much as my being alone within it. the cold chills my mood, my summer exuberance; it contains my will and shrinks my ambitions. i sit in a still dark house and try to think of anything to do besides watch tv. when do you decide something is too hard? when do you simply give up?

(it's only october; i shouldn't feel this way yet.)

i am overwhelmed by how much the world needs of me, and how little i seem able to give. how quickly i stop feeling indomitable when the sun leans away from the earth.

parklet, usa

nyc. may, 2011.

hot, the way only the city can get. a parklet in the middle of the street. carving pieces of sanity out of daily life, bit by bit.

oh, my feet

piute creek. september 2011.

it felt so good to take off my shoes. usually i kept them on at lunch, ever mindful of all the hiking left to do in the day. but this time i was ahead, just a mile to my planned stop when i plopped down for a late lunch. i knew i'd hike farther, and it made me feel triumphant and relaxed. off came the boots. i even took out my sleeping pad for extra comfort.

this trip was so much harder than i expected. the altitude, the long days, the heat, the heavy pack, the new pants that gave me blisters--on my hips--all added up to a strenuousness i wasn't quite prepared for. but really, it was the lack of a buddy. no one was helping, no one was tired, too, no one sat with me in the shade half way up a steep hill as my breathing slowed. when i stepped away from camp to read a book at the side of the creek, i was just as alone as when i returned. nature felt less of a respite and more, simply the landscape i was moving through, beautiful though it was.

there is something about knowing that someone is waiting for you to come back that makes it more soothing to be away.

mining tools in the desert

 

joshua tree national park. november 2010. 

a rusty circle of corrugated metal, holding nothing but air and the rocky ground; a heavy gear gone still in the dry desert air.

but flowers aren't critical

home. september 2011.

i saw my breath this morning, and then half an hour later was warm enough to ride to work without a jacket on. clear, sunny day; some red haze on the horizon after the sun went down. read an article in an old new yorker about a critic from the 1930's - 1960's which really examined the role a critic plays in culture and society--to firm up ideas, clarify connections, and make people think about their decisions more, well, critically. elucidating.

i love when a short article can make me think about a new idea; when i can feel that idea being incorporated into my world view.

yellow and blue

oakland. september 2011.

light up the sky

emeryville. september 2011.

the park ave grand opening celebration. a cool, blustery evening, with the fog rolling in. a brazilian band playing in the background.

good food is worth the wait

home. september 2011.

oh, foodie food food, i love you, yum! this started with, "i'm hungry and just want to eat so i'll just make a quick scramble," and ended with a squash, corn, roasted pepper, onion, leek, egg and squash blossom scramble, with avocado, and caprese and green salads on the side. oh, yum.

sangria and limes

home. september 2011.

my thirtieth birthday bbq. a big pot of sangria (strawberries, apples, oranges, melon, figs, brandy), a bag of limes, and a bottle of chile powder. you really can't miss, with those ingredients.

wallflower

emeryville, ca. september 2011.

this building is going to be torn down, and is actually quite a nice building, but has seen too many years of neglect to be salvaged. the issue at this point is that there are homeless people living inside who would probably be crushed when the building fell down in the next earthquake. so down it comes now. in the meanwhile, this dandelion has somehow taken root in the mortar between two bricks.