A Breather's Delight

I'm traveling north through the Inside Passage of British Columbia by boat. I tend to keep checking the scenery as we motor through. It changes fast. It can morph into bright sublime beauty that can last for hours, or mere seconds before fading back to gray scale.

I spend a lot of time on deck leaning on the rail and simply watching whatever it is that is happening. It's one of the fringe benefits of the ancient and modern mariner. We like staring at the sea. To see whatever it is.

I know that sounds vague, but after 15 years of looking out to sea, whatever it is still has me entranced.

I can't get enough of the swirling dance of the ocean, rugged coastal islands, cloud, light, and weather. The partners may change, but the dance goes on.

That's the broad view. Go closer. Go for a walk in the forest here and you'll see another dance within the dance. It is just as compelling and interesting.

It's dark, cool, moist and shady in here. Life abounds! Earthy aromas, mixed with the sea breeze offer a heady breath.

Wooly Bird's Nest Fungus with one egg inside!

Salmon Berry Blossom

Banana Slug

Take a look under the dock pilings. There's another magical microcosm of life flourishing in it's element.

Now I'm the alien trying to understand the undersea realm. How does it all work? Every inch is covered with something growing, hiding, living, thriving.

Now I'm having coffee on the dock. It's mid morning and good as it gets. My senses, my soul, are satisfied.

Smell that air. It's blown in from the north Pacific and filtered through pine forests, glaciers and mountains. It's a breather's delight. That's right.

Fifteen Image Smorgasbord

Much has happened these last few weeks. I let my thoughts about these images all build up and slip by before I had a chance to write about them. Now it seems too late.

However, the images still hold water, and I'll let them cover for me.

1 to 3: The hundred mile bike ride. These were taken within the first 30 miles, when I still had energy to take photos. After mile 43, I began to suffer, and pedalled 50 miles back home into a brutal head wind.

I regret not writing about this, and will likely expand on it at a later date.

4: Hypnotic Reflection

5: Pond Slider - my first turtle of 2024

6: Wally the Collie in Eclipse Lighting

7: Old School Eclipse Viewing

8 and 9: Dolly. My sister has a house rule. You can't get up if there's a cat on your lap. Sometimes it works out in your favor, sometimes not.

10: Cleo happy to see me

11: Reunited With Rhubarb

12 and 13: Water Droplets. I prefer the first image.

14: “I know you are in there! Come play!”

15: Mourning Cloak

The Symphony Of Spring

I'm roaming the hinterlands of the Ohio river valley down into the Ozarks of late. It's not the sexiest place you've ever been, but it does have one thing going that makes it very interesting: Spring.

The transformation from bland to colorful is upon us, and I'm riding the cusp. From tan bursts Violet! Green! Gold! Purple! Pink!

Some of these plants have great names, such as the Henbit Deadnettle pictured above.

Butterflies are flitting about, like a will-o-wisp. So alluring to photograph, yet so difficult to catch in the act. Butterflies would make good bank robbers... Hard to catch on film, and fast. They never stay too long on any one flower.

Bees are perusing petals, and pollination has begun.

The world is full of bird song. I'll be a nerd forever, and have taken to bird identification through audio calls. It's easier than trying to see them, and often the most  drab little bird has the sweetest, most intriguing song.

Has anyone recorded bird song and rendered them into a symphony?

The great frog orgies have begun. The caucaughony of horny frogs is amazing. Almost deafening.

In short, the world is warm and blooming and all things natural play their part in this wonderful symphony of spring.

Avid

My friend Cassidy and I used to judge beaches partly based on it’s quality and quantity of interesting shells.

A couple days ago, I went to chase the coyote, and found these beauties. I would just get onto a good rythym and had to stop and look at a shell.

The light was great, the shells fetching. And so my life became a matter of composition and physics - the gentle persuasions of any avid photographer.

Why are photographers, “avid?”

Our public image is dorky enough as it is, with our cameras and photo vest, shuffling on our hands and knees mumbling to our selves about f stops. The last thing we need is a strange adjective added to our kit.

Ah well. Avid isn’t so bad. At least we have some excitement about life. I’d rather be avid than bored any day. I’d rather stop my run and admire a shell, than not (this is also a strategic way to stop and catch your breath). And honestly, I don’t think I could stop if I wanted to. I am what I am: Avid

Dunes

Dunes remind me of finger prints. As if some giant entity gently put its thumb on this enormous patch of sand.

I know its the wind. But, this place inspires a fertile imagination.

I bumped into a coyote today - a feat that I'll attribute to circumstance and luck. The wind was strong and blowing along the ridge. It trotted by me just on the other side of the ridge, and didn't notice me, nor smell me.

I guess Im pale as a sand dune, and I had just swam in the ocean, so maybe I smelled of the sea.

I froze and watched from a distance of 50 to 100 ft before it finally noticed me, and took off.

I think watching a wild animal run as fast as it can is about as cool as it gets. I once saw a red fox sprint across a field -  such speed and grace. Ill never forget it. It was the same with this coyote disappearing into the dunes.

The dunes were the highlight today. Every rise and hollow offered a new and dynamic view, that I couldn't help but try and photograph.

It was quite an enjoyable afternoon.

I used to say about my old job as a land surveyor that, “Some days they could pay me in sand, and I'd still go to work.” It was that enjoyable.

Look at me now… getting paid in sand!

Coyote Running

I do this thing I call Coyote Running. I try to mimic as well as I can the easy loping gait of a coyote trying to get somewhere. Trot is the right word. I like to trot. I like it even better when I can follow in the footsteps of actual coyotes. Coyotes know the easy route.

You might say, " Well, that's just jogging."

You may be right, but coyotes don't jog. Jogging is something humans do, which explains why it looks so awkward. Everything we do is awkward.

Coyotes don't look awkward at all.  When I'm Coyote Running, and I'm doing it right, I can run forever. I'm breathing easy, with good legs and rythym with the landscape.

Today, I went for a coyote trot on one of my mystic beaches. It's not my beach, physicaly, just spiritually.

It had been four and a half years since I've been here, and I was excited to see if the magic still held. And of course, it did.

This island beach is not that easy to get to. It's not the Copacabana, its just some far flung sand spit that is home to coyote, sand verbena, and lots and lots of sand on the western edge of Mexico. The locals have presence here occasionally, but most have better things to do.

Which is why I love it. Its pretty much been left alone.

It's one of those places where if you stand still in the middle of the dunes you can't hear anything. Certainly nothing man made.

I made my way across the island through the dunes. When you run through the dunes, it helps to take a river like approach and take the easiest path. It's not a straight line, but it is an interesting one.

When I reached the Pacific, I crowed in happiness. I was back! I was home! I was playing on one of my favorite playgrounds in all the world!

And it was beautiful.

When the sky is overcast, this place gets more stunning. And today, was such a day.

Treasures:

Lots of interesting shells.
Good reflections.
A beached sea glove.
Seaweed that I was tempted to sculpt with (next time). Coyote prints. My inspiration.

I trotted a couple miles. I swam in the wild Pacific and body surfed four waves. I crowed again! I walked back down the beach, and over the dunes, vowing to be back every week.

Tonight, I topped off my mystical experience with a pistachio paletta from La Fuenta ice cream shop in La Paz. 

This whole country seems to be saying, "Welcome home, amigo."

Rematch

I've been thinking about this ride for almost a year. It's such a great loop. It has everything: great scenery, plenty of distance, a long gravel section, a grueling uphill and a long down hill as your reward.

And last year, I failed to complete it. I ran over a thorn - popping my tire. After a lot of effort, I found my spare inner tube was also punctured. I was twenty miles from the finish. I ended up hitch hiking back to camp, and that was that.

But it stayed in my mind.

Over the last eleven months, my riding has changed. I bought a gravel bike and learned to love it. I started taking on long rides, and slowly improved my kit.

And as it happens, I arranged my life so I could be back in a certain national park with a full day to try again.

The hour before I leave is spent puttering: I make and drink coffee. I make an egg tortilla, and eat it standing up. I pack up road food, tools, water, and a wind breaker, and I go through my OCD rituals of making sure the van is locked, and that I still have the key.

The weather is perfect: The day begins cool, but more importantly, it's not windy. West Texas can be notoriously windy.

I decide to follow last year's route. So I hung a left out of the campground and headed towards Santa Elena canyon. I am basically making a big oval, and I'll break it down into four segments.

The first 8 miles are wonderful. My legs are strong, and I'm loving life. The morning sun is bright and warm and lighting up the canyon wall.

By the way, that cliff you see? That’s Mexico.

The next 13 miles are gravel, and winding over the desert. It takes more effort, but it's not difficult. The road ranges from full body washboard, to rough and rocky, and occasionally quite smooth.  I like the variety. I also like the lonesome emptiness of the land. There aren't many cars out here, I've got the whole desert road to myself.

I stop for a pee, and a snack. Today, I have peanut butter and strawberry jam  sandwiches. I have some Swiss chocolate. Treat yourself.

I know what's coming: the next 8 miles miles are a gently sloping uphill grind. I remember it from last year. Grind is the right word. Its not hard, but it takes more of you than youwant to give it. But this year, I've a better bike suited to the task.

I was not wrong. It still sucked, but not too bad. My thighs were fatigued, my butt getting a bit sore, but I pass the halfway point! Now every mile brings me closer to home.

The last section of the ride is the longest. It's 23 miles to glory, starting with a long uphill grind for 6 miles, followed by 2 miles of a steep backed bastard of a foothill climb.

There comes a point in every long ride, where it's no fun anymore. I was in the throes of the last climb. I am gasping like a fish on land. I made small goals: “Just pedal to that rock. Now get to the end of the guard rail.”

It was diabolical. After a steep mile, it flattened slightly before another mile of grinding.  I crawl up the hill. But, I make it.

It’s funny though.. As soon as I knew I was going to beat it, a small wave of happiness rolled over me. I did it! I may be a gasping fat guy, but I’m a gasping fat guy on top of a mountain that I pedalled up!

Now the end game. I am 16 miles from home, but I knew it was all downhill from here. My only challenge was going too fast!

I stop off at the high point vista for another sandwich and top off my water. I pat myself on the back, I have the perfect amount of water. I regain my mojo, shaking off the fatigue of the last 16 uphill miles.

I'm really happy I took this route in this direction. I coasted for miles without pedalling! I call them free miles. It was awesome. And this section of the scenic drive is beautiful! I zoomed past mesas and the mule ears and the bad lands. I’m grinning like the mad man I am.

I take the turn into the campground some 53 miles later. I’m happy, very tired, and ready for the victory rituals of a day well spent.

I slowly unpacked my gear, and put up my bike. I take a hot shower in the van. I make tapas, and crack a beer - my body craving calories. I sit down in my hammock, and sigh with contentment.

Seminole Canyon - Pictographs and Trails

It took all day to get to Seminole Canyon. When I arrived, I was road weary. I was looking forward to getting my site, and maybe going for a bike ride.

As I thanked the ranger for her time, I asked about the pictograph tour, maybe I'd go on one tomorrow. She said, "Well, we have one leaving in 10 minutes..."

Perfect timing. I postponed my campground landing, and took the tour instead.

I love pictographs and petroglyphs. I just looked up the difference: In this case, the cave art is a pictograph, as it is paint being applied to the rock, and not carving of stone, which would be a petroglyph.

I'm fascinated by both.

There are many theories. It could be religious. It could be mundane. It could be someone memorializing a damn fine day. It could be as simple as someone saying, "I was here." It might just be art.

I kind of want to find a cave somewhere and make my own cave art. Just to mess with future generations of historians. Put up a few flying saucers flown by sasquatch and octopus. Ha!

I guess that's what I'm doing here with written word and my pictures, drawings, building design or sculptures..  "Thom was here." To which the universe in all its wonderful indifference replies, "So what?"

That kind of indifference could crush some people, but not me. I'm going to do my thing as long as I am able. It's as necessary as breathing. So If I haven't mentioned it before, thank you unknown readers for dropping by and experiencing my art. It's better in person, but this will have to do for now.

I digress.

I took the tour. I enjoyed seeing the paintings and learning their ways. I was struck by how colorful the paint is. Most cave art doesn't use much more than one color, but these scenes had three to four pigments.

As the ranger said, "This artist had a plan, and knew what they wanted to paint before they began." This was no experiment.

So my question is, where did they experiment? Where did they practice? One just doesn't randomly make paint from natural materials and put up a varitable masterpiece.

It was very cool.

After the tour, I went to my campsite and got set up. Which for me means: I turned my front seats facing towards each other, and I ran an extension cord from the electrical post through my window to a space heater. That's it. It takes about 5 minutes. "Build your van wisely," I always say.

My chores done, I got my mountain bike off the rack and hit the trail going full throttle. I was racing the sunset, and wanted to see the confluence of Seminole canyon and the Rio Grande.

What a great trail! The Canyon Overlook trail hugs the edge for five miles out to Rio Grande. I was pumping hard, and grinning like a mad man. I was loving the effort and views. I saw the river from on high, and took in the silence of the place. So beautiful.

I stayed as long as I could, but the sun was winning with each minute I stayed. I took up the chase and made it home with about 20 minutes to spare.

My van was warm. The shower hot. The beer cold. The dinner flavorful.  May every day be so good.

Old Friends - White Sands

I've driven past the entrance to White Sands National Monument half a dozen times in the last few years. I was too busy to stop, or maybe it didn't fit the dynamic of the day. I've been a bad friend. These dunes are like a long time friend you mean to visit, but don't.

"Next time," I say as I speed past their driveway. I don't know why I'm wired this way, but I am.

I regret it.

This time it made sense to stop. It was a logical turn around point, before heading east. So on a chilly bright sunshine day, I turned in to see one of my favorite playgrounds.

I drove deep into the park onto the hard pack. I found a likeable pull off, parked, and got ready to go. Which means I took off my shoes and socks. Always walk bare foot in sand, if possible. The sand was cold, but my soul was warm.

I really didn't do much. I went on a long mile long circle out into the dunes. I was mostly following my muse, and  It didn't take long for the desert to envelope my senses.  The highway noise of cars, and people faded away. Only the soft sound of the desert breeze, rustling the dried grass remained.

If I lived anywhere near this place, I'd come once a week just to hear nothing, and see nothing but expansive sand views.

The dunes are a photographer's dream.
The dunes have worms! The dunes have tiny footprints. The dunes create scupltures.  The dunes offer great shadows. The dunes recreate themselves - like a giant 'Etch-a- Sketch.' The dunes softly erases all signs with wind.

I'm really glad I dropped by. Im really glad I walked out into the dunes, I remember why this is one of my favorite places.

As I write this piece in retrospect, I'm having an epiphany. I think I could call this a moment natural philosophy. The message is clear: Not only should I listen to the movements of my old desert playgrounds, but maybe I should see my people, as well. In short, It's time to get sandy.

Carlsbad Caverns - Still Worth It

I was thinking about it, and today marked my fourth visit to the Catlsbad Caverns in about twenty years. And it's been about fourteen years since my last visit. I was excited to see it again, though I knew more or less what I was going to see. But, memories fade. And you can never “cross the same stream twice” as the wise folk used to comment.

So down I went into the depths via the natural entrance. It's the only way to go, if you are capable of it. It’s steep, and winds for about a mile down to the big room.

Cave thoughts:

I like the slowly darkening effect of entering and leaving the twilight zone into the pitch black of the cave. It's a cool thing to experience.

The NPS did well with its low intensity lighting. The trail and features are dimly and subtly lit. It’s dark in there, like a good cave should be.

The NPS also did well to try and keep people quiet. I only heard a liw murmur and often nothing at all. Once in awhile you could hear the quiet “dwip” of a drop of water hitting. The cavern is still growing.

It’s incredibly beautiful. I forgot how magnifcent caves and caverns can be. As the trail wound through the big room, the views just kept getting better.

It's surprisingly balmy down in the depths. I was comfortable in a flannel shirt. Compared to the freezing temperatures gripping the US right now, it was a nice change of pace.

I really want to get off the tourist route and go explore. This cavern is huge, and there is much to see. I’m not a caver though I did a bit in my early twenties.

This is definitely not a difficult or wild walk. It’s your typical spoon fed, over protected, tourist walk through the place, but despite this, it’s still worth seeing. I get it. Thousands of people would destroy it if you let everyone walk wherever, but still…

I had to laugh. The first time I visited, I had a manual film camera and probably some kind of tripod trying to get my shots. Today, I walked about and hand held my phone to take these pictures. They are probably ten times better than my efforts back in the day.

I am really happy I came. Carlsbad Caverns: still great.

Up In The Hills

It's some sunny wintery morning in the mountains of south Central Spain. From a distance, the mountains are intriguing and beautiful. Up close, they are even more beguiling. The subtle colors between shade and sun are simply gorgeous. Pure mountain light.

One needs layers to hike this time of year. It's warm in the sun, and chilling in the shade. Don't move too fast, nor slow and you should be fine. Like all things, one needs balance. But I can't help myself. I'm pushing it. I haven't hiked hard in days, and I want to sprint up this trail. I love to see what I can do.

Fortunately, the light is too good. And I stop to catch a few scenes. Im walking through a dark forest covered in thick moss and lichen. This is definitely a microclimate on the north side of the slope. It's shaded and moist, and very different from the rest of the canyon. There has to be a few salamanders here, but I leave them alone.

On top of the ridge the landscape changes again. Now its open winding and stony. On the sunny side of the hills are wild flowers freshly bloomed. Wild flowers in January… what a delight!

After 8 miles, we're getting tired. The path isn't easy. It's working me. My legs and stomach are asking where home is. It's not far. Just down that steep ass mountain. No problem.

I know what awaits the weary walker in this country: Tapas, beer and another sunset on the mountain peaks.

Spain is wonderful.

The Mezquita-Catedral de Cordoba

I’m not one to get too excited about religious history or architecture. But, today I have an exception.

I think ‘excited’ is the wrong word to use when describing my feelings about this place. I think perhaps, ‘moved' is a better word. I’m not one to wax eloquently about a religious building, but I was moved by the beauty and peace of this place - this space. It is wonderful.

We almost didn't go in.

We had one afternoon to walk around Cordoba. Like millions of other travelers arriving in Cordoba over the centuries, we headed towards the river and the mosque/cathedral.

After walking the narrow district, We munched lukewarm empanadas in the courtyard. My accomplice asked me if I wanted to go in, and to be honest, I didn’t really care either way.

My accomplice is the one who likes old churches and mosques, not me. And she had already seen it years ago. So, we headed out and walked about half a block when she stopped and said, “Can we see it? I really want to.”

I said, “Sure. Why not? We’re here.” And with that we got tickets and headed in.

The space is just that, spacious. It is a vast temple. It’s almost too much for the senses, but not in a modern sense..

It’s a quiet space, or supposed to be. But the murmur of a hundred humans and their footsteps can't be helped. I didn't mind. It felt like it had space for me to be, and contemplate.

It's pleasantly dark. It carries a mood, “Please respect this place. Please keep quiet. This is a space for contemplation and prayer.”

The sheer beauty and detail of every structure, arch, dome, painting, statue, tile, tomb, sarcophagus and four dozen other religious and architectural terms and items I don’t know is truly great. I think It’s the most amazing building I think I've ever seen. It kind of makes my efforts building my art studio seem a little paltry in comparison. Ha!

As a builder of beautiful things, I am left in awe of the craftsmanship and geometric mastery that went into this place. They probably had more than just one guy working on it.

Some questions in my mind: How did they decide on the Geometry? Who designed it? Did they draw it up first? How long did it take? Who decided how to decorate? Are there relics here? Among others.

But more sincerely, as I walked half a dozen laps around the temple, (and I recommend this should you come here), I thought about what this place would be like in its heyday when it was a mosque, and later as a cathedral. I tried to imagine this gigantic space filled with people praying. Imagine thousands of devout souls, side by side, together in this beautiful place. What energy!

Like I said, it’s a vast space. As I walked, I thought about the message the builders were trying to impart to us…

In a historical sense, It’s a complicated place. It was build and used by the Moors before being taken remade into a Catholic cathedral. There are enough people who have written about that without my commenting on it.

Although, I will say Catholics way back in the day, didn't usually keep the Moorish structure unless it suited them. More often they tore it down and rebuilt their own building. In this place however, they built a cathedral inside of the original mosque. It’s just that big. It’s just that beautiful.

Pictures can't do this place justice. But, I’ll offer a few.

Twelve Scenes of Sevilla

I'm glad I came to Sevilla, but I'm also glad I'm leaving. Nothing against it, Sevilla is a fine town, but cities can only hold me for so long before I need to get out into the wild again. I'm a bit of a snow leopard.

That said, here are twelve views of Seville, before I move on to more interesting landscapes.

1. Goofball portrait in Triana. Triana is a great base of operations should you need one.

2. Park Scene with nice trees.

3. Blue Tile. Sevilla is the city of blue tiles. They are every where, and very beautiful.

4. Pastille De Nata… by far the best pastry I've ever eaten.

5. Park scene near the contemporary museum of art. Perhaps the best contemporary art museum I’ve seen. It is set in an old church. An interesting juxtaposition of old and new.

6. Pink bloom.

7. Plaza Archway.

8. Flower intricate

9. Green ham.

10. The Bishop's chess piece. I like to think all the old cities have one giant chess piece in their church. Once a year they bring them together and play a game.

11. Old school napkin like art. It made it into an art museum. Just saying…

12. Yet another Chamber of Ham. How much ham do you expect me to eat?

Granada Granola

Spain is all right, you know?

I haven't written much about it yet, but I wanted to take a bite out of it first, before I made any comments.

I’m starting to get it. Im starting to like it Moor and Moor (get it?). Ive had tapas. I’ve had small beers. I’ve walked miles around Barcelona and now Granada. And tomorra? I go to Seville.

Today I want to talk a bit about Granada. Mostly I want to show you some views of Granada and it’s environs.

That said, I’ve a few comments.

Granada is closer to what I’m looking for in a vacation town than Barcelona is, but I’m still scratching the surface of this country. We’ll see what I find next week.

Granada offers access to the mountains - to the Sierra Nevada. Get out! Go! There are dozens of miles of trails to walk, hike, run, bike and generally find amazing views and quiet nature however you want to do it.

Me? I like to walk through olive groves. Olive trees are very charasmatic.

When you get back to town, Granada has what you want and need: Cold beer, hot food, and a place to stay.

For those of you wanting to delve a bit deeper into the food, Granada has that too. I ate some regional blue cheese that I deemed, “The cocaine of blue cheese.” I’ve never done coke, but from what I’ve read about it “a sudden rush of intense euphoria comes over you” and people who use it “get addicted to this rush” (roughly paraphrased). Eating this cheese is no different. I love this cheese. I (now) need this cheese.

Do I know the name of the cheese? No, I do not. My Spanish skills suck, and i was on my third glass of Riojas, so I missed it when the owner told me the name. I can tell you it’s from the Austurias region, which, has some pretty damn good food.

Beyond that, the history here will fill a few thousand years worth of books and tales.

Granada has the Alhambra palace, built by the Moors, and housed the royal folk back when Granada was the capital of Spain. It’s unbelievable how detailed the craftsmanship is in this Palace.

We took a tour of the joint with a couple hundred other people slowly jostling for position to get their photo in front of something beautiful with a background of several dozen other people doing the same thing from another angle. Humans are weird.

When I walked through, the question that kept coming to me was, “where does the king and queen go to the bathroom?” Generally speaking we’ve all have to process several times a day, but I didn't see any obvious side rooms for that purpose. Maybe they had to hold it whole court was in session… I digress.

Granada is all right, you know? Check it out, you got some time.

Panamanian Tree Thoughts

The trees pictured here are former jungle trees. Now they are domestic park trees with no competitors to steal their light. Some of them are huge, and towering. Others are squat and sprawling. Most host a variety of birds and insects at least for a short while as the days foraging goes on.

How intriguing!

I was most impressed by the green striped tree with the moderate beer belly trunk. It was fat, and as I walked around it, several 3” long bright green beetle-roach like insects scurried up the trunk.

I realized the insects used the green stripes of the trunk for camoflage. Science!

Then I wondered what I wasn’t seeing. It was 8 a.m. What would this place look and sound like at night? That's when all the action is.

Alas, perhaps another time.

These trees are awesome. They provide expansive areas of shade, something this country needs a lot of. They are very vibrant and green, beautiful to the eye. The branches make for compelling sketches and photographs, and all this was at one little park. I can't imagine how lush the jungle here is.. I kinda want to immerse myself in it.

I kept looking for fungi at the base of the trees. How do the mycilium highways work down here? Where are the slimemolds? I bet thereare outstanding slimemolds all over the place…

However, I'm finding Vikings don't exactly do well in the tropics. But, given the opportunity, Im not sure I could say no…

Thanks, trees. :D

Frogs & Flowers of Panama

Forgotten Droplets

I forgot about these images. These are from October, at a time when I had very little energy to put towards art, and creation.

However, I managed to catch these beautiful droplets at their finest.

They were a nice surprise to me, today, when I scrolled through my camera. Too good not too share.

Regrouping

Covid kinda kicked my ass. It stole 2 and a half weeks from me, which compared to some people makes me sound like a whiner. After all, I didn't die. I wasn’t trapped in an apartment, though I did isolate until I was testing negative. And so far, it seems like I’m healing.

I rarely get sick - it’s been years! But, this one got a hold of me and didn’t let go. The most annoying part of this episode was losing my hearing. I can hear, but its very muffled. It feels like Im wearing a helmet, and its been like this for 2 weeks. It’s very isolating. It's very frustrating and annoying.

But life goes on.

I’m a bit of a rover. This time of year means it’s time to close up the studio and move into the vansion.

I did just that a week ago. It wasn’t the usual joyous ritual. I slogged through it, still hampered by my muffled hearing, and slow healing.

I spent a week driving south and chasing autumn. I didn't see the sun for a week. Rain, gloom, cold. The weather matched my mood. The van started its EGR hiccup. I can fix it, but I’ve been on a time frame for two important appointments and couldn't stop to do it.

So life was kicking me around like a hackysack. It happens to everyone - Even high flying highly creative goofballs like me.

Thing is, I’ve been in a post covid funk. I didn't have my usual positive energy. I was waiting to be healthy, waiting to heal. And I wasn’t seeing fast progress. But, it doesn't work like that. It kind of got me down. I didn’t draw. I didn’t design. I didn’t build. I didnt play music. I caught no photos. I sat around waiting to heal. It's not healthy for me to sit around too much. I need to earn it.

But, as it happens, Monday offered a change. For one thing, the sun came out. It was a brilliant bright blue sky day. It was cold, but just seeing the sun brightened my mood. I saw an ENT specialist and he told me my hearing was improving, and signed off on my return to work paperwork. I had three days to goof off before returning to work, so I decided to spoil myself.

I slept in. I finally enjoyed some good coffee after losing my taste and smell. I went for a 20 mile bike ride. I went to a used book store and bought 6 books. I got takeout Chinese food. I purchased some good coffee and my favorite soap.

I did some little things that make me happy. I can feel the energy change in me. I’m starting to take flight. I’ve got ideas.

The bad times help you appreciate the good. Being unhealthy helps you appreciate good health. I’m headed in a better direction.

Here’s two photos.

Thanks for reading, and for listening. Better content coming soon.

Close Autumn Scenes

Here are some autumn scenes I caught from within 100 ft of my studio. It's amazing what a little light will do to make a scene pop. I'm more of a reactionary photographer - if the light is good, I rush and see what I can get. This whole photo shoot took no more than ten to fifteen minutes before I was back inside sipping coffee.

On Pizza and Some Italian Scenes

We had to leave our trip early. These things happen. Our last days in Italy went by fast. Add in a whirlwind of unexpected modern travel, and I’m now back home wondering how to write about it. But the good news, is the jet lag is keeping me awake at night, so I decided to wrap up this dispatch while whiling away the hours.

On Pizza

I will say, I ate an unhealthy amount of pizza in Italy. It was a fact finding mission, I was determined to try it all. We ate pizza once a day. Im surprised Im not dead, from all that deliciousness. It was worth it. I found my answers.

I had 4 truly great pizzas in Italy from 4 different regions. And these average normal pizzas you can get on a Tuesday night, were 98% better than all the rest of the pizza I’ve ever eaten. A lot of good food remembered is based on timing, experience, location, and who you were with. It's very subjective. And no doubt these pizzas fall in to that, but objectively, Italian pizza has a lot going for it.

Their ingredients are fresh. The toppings fresh. The flour special. They care. I had a simple pizza of cherry tomatoes and buffaleta from “The pizza whisperer” in Naples, and he came out after a bit to watch his clients eat. We were all satisfied. Another guy we went back to to compliment his pizza, saying, “it was the best pizza ever.” To which he barely gave us as glance, but smiled and said, “Yeah, I know.”

They have the portion size down perfectly. Everyone gets their own pizza. The have an ingenious accesory of olive oil picante which makes everything taste better. And finally, it’s what they do, and have been doing for a long time.

Visual Vignettes

Here are the rest of the vignettes of Italy.