Wednesday, 1 July 2020
The topography in this immediate area is that at dawn midtown is behind a bit of a ridge, then the sun gets high enough that it blasts he heights of the buildings in midtown. Like this. In this case: a view across the roof of a welding?? warehouse.
I’m amazed by this house…no parking signs on a public street with open parking. And threats of video surveillance. With cameras down the whole block, I assume funded by this resident. Hypothesis.
Monday, 29 June 2020
When I saw on the morning weather that it would be 81° by 10am, I thought: get moving! And, after the usual milling around, I did!
Yeah, and outside it also was HUUUUUU-mid. Although, during my wander, I did find a fine, upstanding mushroom (with gorgeous gills), and a wee library (not closed like the government ones) with foundation problems.
Friday, 26 June 2020
So, I had an anxiety dream last night that I’d never had before. Late for an appointment (or exam)…or can’t find someone that you desperately need to find…that kind of thing: yes. But this time: I was wandering around a restaurant (!!) and didn’t have a mask…and I didn’t know why I didn’t have one and didn’t know where to get one, and very much WANTED A MASK. Yes: total anxiety!
Also, Covid-“joke” of the day: wear a mask unless you want to home-school your kids this fall!
Wednesday, 24 June 2020
Lately, about once a week I traipse by this building to see if it’s still standing. It began as a light industrial nexus adjacent to a railroad track.
Now the railroad track is gone, and the right-of-way is an artery for foot traffic, segways, bicycles, and the like. And the edifice was long ago converted into artist studios and apartments.
Such is the evolution of land use.
Tuesday, 23 June 2020
Almost everything that catches my eye when I’m out “taking my exercise” is what you’d expect…sidewalks and streets, traffic, parked vehicles, road signs, mailboxes, plants and lawns, dog-walkers, joggers, kid’s toys, puddles, organic matter that the rain last night downed, wandering cats, stray chipmunks, assorted flags—all that you’d expect in a neighborhood-with-a-small-business-area. Special today: garbage containers.
This I didn’t anticipate: juse…written in white paint on an industrial electrical conduit box. Still trying to decode “juse.”
Monday, 22 June 2020
We had a heavy-dew morning.
Then it was just plain humid. And hot.
And storms came through early this evening.
Saturday, 20 June 2020
These guys are doing their volleyball thing like there’s no covid likely to be transmitted while heavy-breathing. [Two weeks ago, the MLB allowed baseball teams to open spring training; now they’ve got so many Covid-Positive players and staff that everything’s closed again. A cosmos for the rest of us.]
Among the many remodeling, construction, and rebuilding activities that are underway because: covid closed, trucks today removed several portable trailer-classrooms from a nearby elementary school. I look forward to seeing how this works out. Fewer classrooms to densify students? THAT doesn’t make sense…so what are they up to? Standing by….
Friday, 19 June 2020
In my head, I call these covid car spots…whether there’s a car (or other vehicle) there or not. They are distinguished by the drip line and sedimentation pattern. Many covid cars have been moved…this one is a fresh exit. [It’s by the house where a couple walked their cats (one each) during the height of staying home.]
Some city people water their sidewalks. I’m not sure, but I hypothesize that they think it’ll make the cracks seal up.
Whimsical sculpture…by fence. Is it a razorback hog? A dog with muscular thighs? Not sure.
Thursday, 18 June 2020
Pro-tomato, anti-squirrel cage technology.
I still see this and have to translate from Bureau of Land Management to…#BLM.
Hosta bloom portrait. Moderately successful.
Wednesday, 17 June 2020
I walked along a street I rarely visit and found this oversized thistle. Stunning.
This resembles a travertine flow at Yellowstone, yet it’s a cascade of fungi.
Large TV in a small apartment. A basement apartment. Pure spectator anthropology. [Full disclosure: I saw no people; I did not hang around; I stopped and took a photo, then moved on.]