I first read Rainer Maria Rilke one autumn in “Letters to a Young Poet” — a book handed off to me with pages stained by office carbons. Rilke’s letters to Franz Kappus, published by Kappus after Rilke’s death, are sympathetic and inspired. There’s a reason this collection finds its way to the paws of young…
Mondo Maple
For perspective, Hugh’s shoe in this photo is about 12 inches. I photographed the fallen leaf in our local green space, Discovery Park. It wasn’t until I started looking at world-record maple leaves that I realize this particular one — although not a record setter — is in the ballpark (or tree park) of some…
Draped in Kelp, Below by 8000 Feet
“Under the brine you won’t notice the dark Can stone and steel and horses heels Ever explain the way you feel? From Scapa Flow to Rotherhithe, I felt the lapping of an ebbing tide Oh the heavy water how it enfolds The salt, the spray, the gorgeous undertow Always, always, always the sea Brilliantine mortality.”…
Return to the Mother Ship
This was a serendipitous capture … getting the two honey bees in a straight line, and in the same plane of focus. I was photographing a single, pollen-soaked bee when the other entered the frame and queued up behind. Whenever I see bees on a slow approach to sunflowers, I can’t help but think of…
Bull Kelp Metallica
Click for Larger Image Nereocystis luetkeana I saw these bull kelp stipes or stems on Elliott Bay in Seattle, rolling with the pulses of the tide and buoyed by their bulbs. The slickness of their whips and ribbons reflect the sun and paint them metallic. It’s a dying sea forest alchemically transformed through the elements…
Thursday on the Beach With Brant
On the surface, Brant Geese — in this case, Pacific Brant or Black Brant or Branta bernicla — are a marvel to behold. That’s but a superficial observation. There’s a lot more to a Brant than her aesthetic, but let’s face it, aesthetics form our first impressions. Clustered together like Tribbles, they call out in…
Phases of Fennel
The fragrance of fennel always takes me to Southern California . . . to the untamed hillside of my parents’ home . . . years ago now . . . where she and my dad landed after a lifetime of soaking up maritime fog . . .
Never Underestimate a Cattail
Today, I watched a Marsh Wren collect soft fibers from the head of a cattail — and dive into the abyss of cattail leaves to build up a hidden nest.
One Tree, Many Lives
Every spring, the wood chipper shows up. One morning, Fargo-like, it just appears . . . always while I’m in my bathrobe, never after I’ve quaffed my caffeine . . .
Brave New Poppies . . . and David Lynch
I appreciate spring this year. I didn’t in 2009. Our California sod is parched from recent drought — and the whimsy of a winter that flitted through last year felt like hope lost.
