Every few months or so, I go with my dad to South San Francisco and visit the grave of my grandfather. He died long before I was born, in a car accident, so all I know of him now is stories my dad tells us. He was a WWII vet, a very stubborn Irishman, and a man with more than his fair share of a checkered past. Overall, probably a man we’d like to have in our lives. We clean up his gravestone, place flowers and sometimes take walks to see the stones of other deceased family members buried in the same cemetery. It’s peaceful, even if my father finds it a bit disconcerting to wander among the buried.
Foggy days are my favorite days, because the city in a blanket of fog looks almost dream-like, like a mythical city ready to disappear before you can reach it. Photos of the Golden Gate surrounded by fog are some of my favorite shots to see, and to capture one of my own has actually made me a little proud of myself.
I’m looking forward to winter, to cloudy days and plenty of fog. I’ll be spending more time in the city in the chance that I’ll get another shot like this (and maybe I’ll capture it with the camera I hope to get in the future).
An invitation to be in the moment
This morning we decided on a spontaneous trip to Baker Beach with our two-year-old son.
Our city by the bay is done with Summer. That summertime fog that we wake up to is no more.
Homeward bound after a month in the USA
One day-One Hour- One Minute- It will happen. It is inevitable. Except it already has.
Top 10 Things To Do In San Francisco
If you live in San Francisco, you know to avoid Eddy and Leavenworth Street... *stab*
Wrote this the day after the attacks in Paris but was reminded of it this morning when I read the news about the bombing in Turkey
In Search of Color