Dreaming of Winter

Although I have lived in Northern California since 1971 my bones still hold deep memories of long Ohio winters - endless days of gray, wet, snow, slush, biting cold, ice - always clinging to the promise of spring at the long end of the tunnel. As I stand on Stanyan Street in San Francisco on this February day, arms stretched between a colorful Liquid Amber tree as it drops its red/yellow leaves and the ethereal snow fall of a blossoming Plum, I spin in confusion at their silent offerings to the earth. I can't help but wonder...what happened to winter?

I know from my years here that drought calls for change and adaptation - from the water sparing way I brush my teeth to the tinder dry forests across the state that seduce fire's devastation. However, in a good year the seed quietly hunkers down during the wet winter months generating a storehouse of energy to grow its beauty in the coming spring and summer. In some way don't we require the same thing? Those cold rainy days that slow us down enough to turn inward for contemplation and dreaming? But what happens to the tender seeds of our beautiful visions when winter doesn't come? 

—Gail

The Center of Everything

There's no way to change / without touching / the space at the center of everything.

—Chana Bloch, from The Past Keeps Changing

Chinatown

 Photo Adventures with Tina and Mark…

On a rain-threatened, late fall morning the narrow streets of San Francisco’s Chinatown are trapped in a dull field of gray. There is a wave of disappointment that our photography will fall flat – not enough light to pull out the delicious textures, qualities and colors waiting under wraps. Maybe the clouds will crack open into some amazing possibility…or maybe not.

But then, an image is only an image and Chinatown, a world unto itself, always offers a diversity of visuals found nowhere else—like piles of dried fish in plastic bags and rows of boney bug-eyed fish on ice. And in the world of digital even dull images can benefit from a few moments of play.