July 2015

I Wish I Was in New Orleans

I finally had the chance to take my camera on the road.   The Crescent City is a gorgeous place with great sights, delicious cuisine and interesting characters.  I was able to practice taking a few shots in between the tours, the jazz and the meals.







There are a lot of places I like, but I like New Orleans better. There’s a thousand different angles at any moment. At any time you could run into a ritual honoring some vaguely known queen. Bluebloods, titled persons like crazy drunks, lean weakly against the walls and drag themselves through the gutter. Even they seem to have insights you might want to listen to. No action seems inappropriate here. The city is one very long poem. Gardens full of pansies, pink petunias, opiates. Flower-bedecked shrines, white myrtles, bougainvillea and purple oleander stimulate your senses, make you feel cool and clear inside.

― Bob Dylan, Chronicles, Vol. 1

A Quick Trip to Purisima Creek

From the shore I decided to head towards the redwoods a few miles away.  These aren’t the ancient guys, I believe they are about a hundred years old or so.  I love the scent and feel of these woods.  As a raw amateur I wasn’t able to record the beauty and spirit of this place.  I had a little sunlight and did the best that I could.

DSC_0154     DSC_0175




Photographs taken: 6/27/15

On the drive over I was thinking about the Grateful Dead shows I was going to see that weekend when Eyes of the World came on the radio.  Beautiful!
Eyes of the World
Words by Robert Hunter; music by Jerry Garcia
Right outside this lazy summer home
you don’t have time to call your soul a critic, no
Right outside the lazy gate of winter’s summer home
wondering where the nuthatch winters
Wings a mile long just carried the bird away…

…Wake up to find out
that you are the eyes of the world
but the heart has its beaches
its homeland and thoughts of its own
Wake now, discover that you
are the song that the morning brings
but the heart has its seasons
its evenings and songs of its own

Slouching Towards Half Moon Bay

For my first journey into the world with my camera, I chose a trip to Half Moon Bay.  I woke up early to catch the morning light, unfortunately, the day was a bit foggy.  I wasn’t sure if this would work.  I gave it my best shot.  I stopped along the way to try to capture the reservoir.  At this point I’m still using auto mode and I am going with hand held to get used to the feel of the camera.  I also need to practice holding it steady.




Arriving at Half Moon Bay, the coast was still a bit overcast and beautiful.  There is an emotion that occurs at a mostly deserted beach that is difficult to explain.





Photographs taken: 6/27/15

At Melville’s Tomb
Often beneath the wave, wide from this ledge
The dice of drowned men’s bones he saw bequeath
An embassy. Their numbers as he watched,
Beat on the dusty shore and were obscured.

And wrecks passed without sound of bells,
The calyx of death’s bounty giving back
A scattered chapter, livid hieroglyph,
The portent wound in corridors of shells.

Then in the circuit calm of one vast coil,
Its lashings charmed and malice reconciled,
Frosted eyes there were that lifted altars;
And silent answers crept across the stars.

Compass, quadrant and sextant contrive
No farther tides … High in the azure steeps
Monody shall not wake the mariner.
This fabulous shadow only the sea keeps.

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