The High Sierra (Happy Earth Day)

 The High Sierra, October/November 2019 (35mm film)

In honor of Earth Day and its 50th Anniversary, I thought to share some photographs I took while camping in and through the High Sierra last year . . .

An autumn ago.
Solitude and stillness. 

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Allow us to be better stewards of our planet--for each other, for our children, for our children's children, and for their children's children.  For our magnificent wildlife, our vast marine life, our invaluable plant life.  For the whole of nature.

We have one Earth.  Be kind to her.

In no lesser degree, may we also remember to show kindness to our fellow humans during this time of global crisis.

Our Earth and world are hurting collectively.
Be the antidote, not the poison.


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Sometimes,

Lee Vining, CA - A Couple of Autumns Ago (on 35mm film)

everywhere seems like nowhere
and nowhere
feels like
home.

I'm still figuring out things.
I collapse into long periods where I withdraw from
people
places
the entire world.
Usually, they are preceded by longer periods of
hyper-activity and production
spearheaded by unspeakable
sadness.

I don't know.
I'm not sure.
Maybe,
one day I'll figure out things.

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Weathered

Mile Rock Beach, San Francisco

It's been raining since January.
Not the rain one can see, hear, or touch.
In contrast, it is a pouring that drums and pounds against the temples without ever lifting completely.
A continuous discourse in longsuffering and forbearance.
Absent to eyes.
Inaudible to ears.
A thorn in my side.
Moisture and wetness locked into every passing wind.
Each drop of precipitation takes with it a sample of my skin; each taste a stripping.
There are moments when the rain stops.
Never for too long though.
Just enough for a chance to savor the quiet.  Just enough to swallow the nepenthe; let out a supressed cough; and, with knowing anticipation, seek shelter underneath the weathered, soot-covered awning . . . waiting for the first sign of the rain's return.
Then, like clockwork, the amorphous grey sky opens and a single drop falls from its mouth.
It lands between my lips and I taste it.
It is cold, but familiar.

-August 2015
(edited November 2015)

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Film camera images from Summer 2015.

Bathers Nostalgia

Sutro Baths, San Francisco

Film camera images from Summer 2015.

Relative posts to follow . . .