Black Fridays! All Month Long…at least! Saturdays, too,
all through which we have our moody misty wintry hazes
Hot noon streets; Noe Valley summer 1966…six years and several lifetimes later, fog bouncing down the trolley tracks into Cole Valley…[thoughts surfacing in early winter]. A dozen years after that, fog on the saddle below Auburn Peak; another life, also not shown, but from there
eventually came the watercolors [above] now belatedly heading off to lives of their own.
Meanwhile Monday,
into the World, the glare of traffic south on 680 but still only an hour and
a quarter to
Santa Clara to
take down Linda’s exhibition,
pause for faux Pho
at 4 [Fo’?] Seasons Pho in the Franklin Street Mall,
and load out. The return took about the same amount of time so home –
and unloaded – by five, subsequently down First for a pleasant [if always spendy relative to more interesting venues over the hills to the west] dinner at Lucca and yet another chill
blue day in Benicia Town. Every day here disrupted by one thing; or another… just the way it is.
The Tundra came back with something screwy with the ABS, we had another dental adventure
in Fairfield and the remaining days dissolved away into clerical pursuits.
Down along the shore the LCD* Lighting contractor contracted to hook up the Christmas Tree
and restring the tree lights up and down First was madly attempting to finish by December first,
the restrung tree lights looking more like Ace Bandages around the trunks than the previous incarnation which had gracefully extended into the branches overhead.
Friday I navigated through the cheerful Trumpists [with their suspiciously mass-produced signs] protesting rules of law and governance outside the Post Office,. I guess if people like Trump it stands to reason they probably think like Trump so would consider such niceties as law and
governance Annoying and Irrelevant at best. We’ll see if these little pockets of Rebellion have as much effect as the millions of women marching on the Washington Mall didn’t. But it may be otherwise…after all, those were just women, not “Real Amercuns”; their signs were homemade, a sure sign that without official backers they needn’t and shouldn’t be taken seriously.
Last day, last errands, last bikeride, the ’45 put away
and First Friday on First by which time the light-bandaged trees had made it all the way to H.
I, J, K, L…Military. Not far to go; better late than never. [the ’45, asleep]
Soon, all too soon, SFO, NYC…and much much more.
*LCD = lowest common denominator.
Etc
M. Marvelous Auto Biography visual entries, per usual. But how will you select from the hundreds of striking images for even a voluminous published presentation? And perhaps text component could move beyond captions to inner life? You know, MMoore philosophy. Not just politics but world view reflected in art. By the way, last photo is a knock out. How about a high res jpeg we can print and frame to join other MMs on our walks? P
Sorry about last word misspell: “walk.” “Walls,” of course. P
I haven’t been to the Post Office recently so I’m not sure that we don’t have people “protesting rules of law and governance” – what specifically? BTW – but, otherwise, life is similar here, without the superb photos, part routine, part lovely. while, just over the horizon, the country is being destroyed.
Terrific winter shadows (and light….except those LCD bandages). I always look forward to the visual record of your meanderings. Like Paul, I do like the ’45 asleep….ghostlike form, mysterious shadows and ominous movement. Although the “Dental Adventures” one shoe, shadows and waiting machine may be even more ominous, eek! The Benicia bridge shadows shot (returning from Santa Clara) is one of my favorites.
Bottom line….I’d much rather be looking at these photos than at Trumpsters with their mass-produced protest signs, mindlessly parading in front of the Post Office.
I like the strangeness of the winter light in a place that doesn’t really have a winter, yet has its own winter. Perfectly suited to our national winter without ever obviously making the connection. Will always had the words, “the winter of our discontent.” Somehow made manifest in this batch.