Ever since I picked up a telephoto lens and aimed it at my first non-human earthling, my seasons have morphed into migration schedules. Winter = Ducks. Spring= Babies. Fall (best time of all) = Shorebirds. I used to be an urban-girl-night-person — before I knew what I was. Autumn was: early darkness, early cocktails. Schlepping…
A Quiet Nation of Shorebirds – San Francisco Bay Area
I try to stop by Arrowhead Marsh when I’m in the vicinity of Oakland Airport . . . which is quite a lot, considering I’m with a guy who, essentially, commutes to work by plane. It’s my consolation in solitude to stroll through the marshes with my camera after I bid farewell to Southwest or…