point reyes. june 2013. 

an epic hike: nine miles in three hours, including stops for photos, berry picking, and exploring the sea shore. my knee hurt for three weeks following the hike, so i rested it; now that i've started working out again, it feels much better. it's amazing how well nature heals. at first it feels like a big sponge that can absorb everything you're feeling and take it away, and then you realize that you feel better because you're where you belong. 

i'm thinking of traveling to south america in a few months, and i'm excited to see the cities and work on the farms, but i'm also anticipating patagonia, the andes, and perhaps even antarctica. the bold, vast, empty places that feel like a strange new home.

all in a line

kapa'a (where else?). march 2013.

there's no one there

kapa'a, kauai. march 2013.

woodpile

the farm. december 2012.

i can never wait to go back there. it feels like camp, like a little slice of camping, like a family vacation where everyone is actually happy. i love it there. it's my favorite place to take photographs.

plates, covers, grates

the village. december 2010.

through the trees

the farm. november 2012.

isn't that light just gorgeous?

the farm. thanksgiving 2012.

the back road, where nobody goes. a road up a hill and off the property. orange-blossomed mistletoe clumping on rough oak branches. poison oak twigs with no leaves but still filled with oils. a hazy sky sun that isn't trying to shine brighter. sitting at the kids table when you're thirty-one.

late afternoon light

the farm. november 2012.

oaks

mt. diablo. november 2012.

into the late afternoon

mt diablo. november 2012.

yellow tree; feather branches

fairyland, oakland. october 2012.

the place where i want to get married

the farm. december 2011. 

this was the jury's pick for the 26th emeryville art exhibition, which opens tonight at 6pm. 5890 christie avenue, emeryville. free, 11am-6pm daily, oct 6-28, 2012.

a new perspective

baltimore wilderness, sierras. august 2012.

the driest year on record

 

 eagle lakes area. august 2012.

two weekends in the sierra foothills. photos from the first, a backpack, and a poem describing the last day of the second. 

the driest year on record

coming back from two days on the river, 

feet sand scrubbed and body filled with under water stillness

discovering my car, al fresco, the driver's window scattered across seats front and back, 

not stolen, nothing missing, just the solid lack of funds waiting to be shouldered,

my awareness expanding to encompass all the facets of my life making it unlikely 

that i will ever be equipped to attract create revel in the love i so desire, 

moaning out my despair to an undeservedly attentive audience, 

smothering in my own self pity,

i find room in my heart to envy even bonnie raitt, 

over whom i thrash out my inescapable misery, 

who at least can express her sorrow

with levity, eloquence, and a sultry voice.

recovery. relief at the retreat of the surging hormonal pulses flattening 

my dying midwest factory town of self confidence, 

able, finally, to laugh,

but still not trusting my friend's assurance that i look good in that photo.

and maybe perhaps all of this due, in part or en todo, or at least strongly kicked off by 

your perfect nose, small as a hospital gown snap, turned up in baby sleep

and you, you , sweet little bunny, petite example of perfect newness and all that i don't have,

named lovingly for a mother long gone and a video game.

an oak with broad flat branches

santa cruz. july 2012.

overlooking the sea.

this is my sister's back yard.

where do i want to live?

lodge

carizzo plain, ca. march 2012.

beautiful sunset. whispy clouds all across the sky to highlight the changing colors.

is it still winter?

43rd street. february, 2012.

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?

shadows and light

marin headlands. july 2011.

tree fibers

joshua tree. november 2010.