Who knew? I sure didn’t.

I read somewhere that the full moon meters (photographically speaking)
pretty much the same as daylight, so I gave it a try.  This is a hand-held shot
with a zoom lens, just cropped and sharpened (not enlarged).

I’ve always been intrigued by ravens.

I’ve got pictures of them on my bedroom walls; behind one
is feather a raven tossed to the ground near me when grooming.
The Haida story of trickster raven creating the world and
dumping humankind into it just to amuse himself
has always seemed a more realistic description
of our condition than any offered by organized religions.

This one was hovering over Otto, her spread wings twice Otto’s size.
Fortunately she decided Otto wasn’t a threat (0r qualified as dinner)
and left him alone. I do wonder if any chihuahuas or yorkies
went missing that day at Fort Funston.

The blue eye isn’t a photoshop add-on, it’s a reflection of the sky.

I just posted this picture on Flickr. I took it yesterday in San Francisco’s Golden Gate Park after a visit to UCSF Medical Center. The morning was misty and cold, the grass and trees a delightful winter green.

Winter green?

Many other flickr photographers (from the Northern Hemisphere anyway) are posting pictures of ice storms, whiteouts, buried snow plows, and barren windswept fields. And here come the Californians showing snapshots of green.

California’s coastal winterscapes can drive the ice-bound crazy. Once again we’re seen as Violating All The Rules and Just Not Making Any Sense. But there is a logic to our seasons, even if it’s obscure. It helps to remember that the planet’s largest heat-sink (aka the Pacific Ocean) is just to our left.

So as a service for those who just don’t get all this green, here’s a short guide to our seasons.

Winter

Every hillside is green. A ridiculous, Irish/New Zealand green. So green your eyes hurt looking at it, especially when the sun shines. Green? In the land of perpetual drought? Continue Reading »

What better way to start a new year than finding what’s true?

Unfortunately, this one truth just led to another, then another and another,
finally to the end of the building.

All true, but no answers.

Maybe next year.

Two photos from a short trip to Sonoma County. Above, the Russian River in morning mist, Monte Rio. Below, the Sonoma coast looking south from Goat Rock Road.

I’m in San Diego for a bit of R&R. It rained yesterday – lots of big puffy clouds – and I happened to be in La Jolla for sunset. Here are three shots, all taken within a half-hour of each other near the children’s pool, now better known for the harbor seals – and law suits – that hang out there.

About 10 minutes before sunset.

At sunset.

Looking east and north. The sun’s setting behind me; the orange light shimmering on the water is bouncing off the clouds.

Otto and I made it to the beach for sunset for the first time in many many months. I paid for it the next day, but not too badly and oh, it was worth it.

This is a shot taken at Fort Funston, the southernmost coast side of San Francisco, aka Dog Heaven. The area’s one gigantic canine playground, with sand and birds and cliffs and seaweed and smelly rotting stuff and lots of other happy dogs and dog-happy people. Otto, busy sniffing something nearby, passed on participating.

Fort Funston sunset

Looking south towards Pacifica, where the Bay Area keeps the fog machine.

Two this time, both classic San Francisco shots. Fingers are a bit more cooperative, so I’m making up for lost time.

Raven over the Golden Gate

Fog at Stow Lake, Golden Gate Park

Looking up…

…at a sculpture along San Francisco’s Embarcadero.

Nobody sees a flower, really, it is so small. We haven’t time – and to see takes time, like to have a friend takes time. –Georgia O’keeffe

I saw a man on a street corner staring up with such intent he seemed to be studying for an important exam. I think he was.

In his hand was a camera, a Canon EOS, and the objects of his analysis were the powerlines overhead. Or he was noting the angles and shadows of the rooftops on the buildings nearby. Or perhaps it was the textures of the gray clouds left by our last small storm that fascinated. If his exam was an advanced one, he was considering all three.

The man was in the midst of what I’ve come to call the seeing – the act of poring over something, point by point, detail by detail, trying to figure out what is there. What is really there, not the small and disconnected bits we register in our day-to-day and then claim – foolishly – we’ve actually seen something.

Continue Reading »