Light & Air
Long live those who have the love of color -‐ true representatives of light and air. - Cezanne
"Look!" she said.
Denizen of The Dock
Where Will We Go
Writing on The Dock of The Bay
Seymour was a ray of orange light in the sunrise of first day. He spread himself across the sky and over the deep blue bay, surrounded by other rays of light - Lady Red and Deep Purple, Big Pink and Touch of Grey, all part of something bigger, all coming from the same source - the rising & majestic burning orb called Sun. Birds soared on sea breeze currents. Solitary people watched from shore and small boats that bobbed in the water. One or two snapped photos. Another painted from an easel on the wharf. Seymour, who didn't consider himself photo or paint-a-genic, admired his tiny self and friends on the thick white canvas, though Big Pink seemed a bit much, and Touch of Grey hadn't made the painting at all. Typical. As Sun climbed the horizon, Seymour felt himself fading, receding into Bright Yellow and Vast Blue. He didn't know where he was going or when he would return, or if fog would crash the party next time, or if clouds and rain or lightning - which he loved like an outlaw cousin, would prevent him from appearing. He didn't worry. For he knew, someday he would return, once again spreading across the sky, lighting the world and the lives of those who pause and gaze, in moments suspended, ensconced in the feel and glow of color and light.
Rainbow Harbor
Current Photo
All We Need Is . . . Frost
Best Dock Find Ever
Midnight Kiss
Writing on The Dock of The Bay
As the clock approached midnight, Santos lifted himself out of bed. Sylvia was at the window in her nightie watching the lights of the boats on the water. They heard footsteps on the dock and people gathering as the clock wound down . . . or was it up? Santos could never figure that out - at some point in life, the uphill climb maybe leveled out for awhile and then somewhere along the way actually became a downhill slope and then . . . and then it was like that line in The Sun Also Rises: slowly at first, then all at once. Maybe that was it. Why did Santos suddenly remember that line from 40 years ago, in a book written 80 years back, as he stood in the window with midnight approaching next to a woman he'd been with for 43 years? Down on the dock, a voice shouted - Happy New Year! Another answered - Happy New Year to you! Fireworks flared above the City and if you looked just right, peering through the windows of a two story houseboat down the way you could see a showering of red and blue and gold as rockets peaked, exploded, and descended in remnants of color against the dark sky. Santos reached for Sylvia. She smiled, so lovely in the moonlight, as they kissed and welcomed in another new year together.
Good Neighbors
Denizens of The Dock
The Twenty Dollar Smile
Writing On The Dock of The Bay
A nurse drove home through the City after work and stopped at a traffic light on Van Ness. A man with a cup stood on the median. She had seen him there many times before - lean and haggard with a straggly beard, a guitar case at his feet. She made it a practice not to give money. Sometimes, she had a tangerine from lunch that she would give away. But this December night it was clear and cold, very cold. She sat in her car waiting for the green light with her heater on, freezing. He must be really freezing, she thought. So she did something she never does. She reached into her purse and grabbed a bill. A twenty was all she had. She gulped, opened her window, and gave it to him. The man looked at the twenty dollar bill in disbelief. Are you sure??? he asked. Yes, she nodded. I'm so happy he said, his face lighting up with a smile. I can eat a hot meal tonight and I can buy a new string for my guitar and next time I see you I will play you a song - okay? She smiled and nodded and said, Yes, thank you. Then the light turned green. She drove towards home, his smile lighting the way.
Things I've Seen Float By
Blaze's Boat
Writing Light
Writing On The Dock of The Bay
Once I asked my friend Leonard Gardner to help me figure out how to put a new ribbon in my old Smith & Corona upright. He came downstairs to our dim flat where my typewriter sat on a bright blue table and typed: ‘First we must have light.’ I’ve never forgotten that, and now some thirty years later sitting in a room full of light I think how it works both ways – how we need light to write, and how writing itself provides us with light, how it casts meaning and understanding onto the page and allows us to play with our shadow.
That Same Morning
Current Photo
Beethoven Soaring
Writing On The Dock of The Bay
Monday while listening to a piece by Beethoven on the radio, the piano sounded so smooth and effortless and beautiful, rising and gliding and soaring and I watched a bird soaring over the smooth lagoon and they were in synch, maybe one and the same- the music, the bird, and me.
Frosty South Forty
Current Photo
Denizens of The Dock
Scout
What you don't see in this photo is the exuberant, crotch-seeking dog named Scout who is being kept at bay with one hand, somewhat futilely, while his owner - a friendly stranger - takes this shot; all of us out for a waterfront walk on a brisk November day .