As I explained five days ago, San Diegans are fiendishly obsessed with Halloween. Outside the home where lives Carl, who was featured in my “Cats of University Heights” series in January 2018, is a fine […]
Category: Leica
Delivery Door Art?
Surely you’ve come across something and wondered: “How long has that been there?” That is the question I asked on Oct. 6, 2020, while walking down the alley behind Kairoa Brewing Co., which is located along the main commercial area of San Diego’s University Heights neighborhood. The Featured Image is what I saw on the establishment’s rear door, where I presume supplies are unloaded. What does that image bring to your mind?
For me, the goats (or are they rams) immediately flash subliminal recollection, but not something precisely recalled. Looking at the beasts—bathed in blood red, so to speak, with their pointy horns—elicits creepy feeling that I have seen them before. In a horror movie perhaps—something like a “Constantine” or one of the three original “The Omen” films (1976, 1978, 1981). But somewhere. You do know that, biblically and mythologically, goats are associated with symbols of the devil?
The Cats of University Heights: Sundown
Four years ago today, I started this series with a presumed stray, sighted only once, that I call Scruffy. Three-hundred-fifty-eight profiles later, the number of furballs to photograph is seemingly inexhaustible. At the start, I expected the series to progress a month, maybe a little longer. Foolish me. In autumn 2016, as explained in post “Why Cats?“, I worked with new eyes, so to speak, following multifocal intraocular lens replacement for cataracts and also ongoing treatment for macular edema—the latter of which is mostly now resolved. Feline field photography acted as a kind of visual therapy.
That brings us to our celebratory kitty, seen in the yard of the home where once lived Giotto and next-door to where you can find Petri (well, until his family moves sometime before Dec. 1, 2020). That makes the black the fifty-seventh putty-tat from Alabama between boundaries Adams and Lincoln. No other street comes close, and I cannot fathom why.
The Cats of University Heights: Pepto
On the same block where lives Daniel Tiger, whom I visited with today, incidentally, resides newcomer Pepto—and, yes, that’s his real name. Within furball spitting distance, you also could encounter: Fluffy, Darth Mew, Ginger, Huck, Jedi, Milo, and Princess Leia—or Snow and Stripe, looking out windows. The block bustles with frisky felines, and it’s a wonder they all tolerate one another so well.
I first saw two-year-old Pepto in early August 2020 and used iPhone XS to shoot a dozen portraits—none of which I would use unless compelled by lack of having anything better. Opportunity presented on September 8, when I lugged Leica Q2, seeking the orange and white for the umpteenth time. The Featured Image is a close crop. Vitals, aperture manually set: f/5.6, ISO 100, 1/125 sec, 28mm; 4:54 p.m. PDT.
The Cats of University Heights: Houdini
Today, while driving home from Costco Business Center, I encountered an animal control vehicle pulled over in my lane by Alice Birney Elementary School, along Meade. I U-turned and circled back wondering if someone had come to (gulp) take away the remains of the ginger that had been mysteriously hanging out along the grass-way and among the parked cars. Mysteriously, because the facility is closed in response to SARS-CoV-2 (severe acute respiratory syndrome Coronavirus 2)—also known as COVID-19—and there are no homes along that side of the stretch of street. So why would the shorthair make its home territory there?
As I approached again, the kitty could be seen sitting in the grass along the side of the building—that is until being approached by the cat catcher. The beast tried to flee as I drove past. Was he caught? I was just relieved that he hadn’t been run over, like another ginger near the same location a few weeks earlier. Curiosity moved me to action, and I walked back to the school expecting to find nothing more than a fleeting feline memory. But no! The beastie was there, returned to the grass, head turned away from me, licking legion or, more likely, wound—from the capture-attempt, perhaps?
Should THIS Surprise Me?
Shirley Ann Place is a seemingly sleepy converted alley between Louisiana and Texas Streets lined with historic Spanish-style cottages. While walking along there a few weeks ago, I sensed tension in the air and saw its manifestation in competing Black Lives Matter signs and American flags—but not both on the same building. Citizens chose to voice whom or what they supported by the icon displayed; for some people, nothing whatsoever. The pattern was undeniable and it is consistently observed across the San Diego neighborhood of University Heights.
Except that the displays of support along Shirley Ann Place felt more combative—stakeholders, something like a Hatfields vs McCoys feud. Black Lives Matter isn’t just a slogan—it refers to an organization with political ambitions that would upend American society. Presumably, flag wavers express patriotism and their stand against radicalism. That said, nothing surprised me more than meandering by yesterday and seeing BLM spray-painted on the Stars and Stripes.
San Diego Gives Kids Permission to Play
Finally. After SARS-CoV-2 (severe acute respiratory syndrome Coronavirus 2)—also known as COVID-19—restrictions shut down playgrounds across San Diego County in mid-March 2020, they reopened on October 2. Strange juxtaposition? Same day, the President of the United States was admitted to Walter Reed Army Medical Center, after testing positive for the disease. What’s that saying about coincidental timing? If there is one.
Along with the playgrounds, public libraries reopened—and the timing is quite deliberate. California has started sending out mail-in ballots for the November 3 election (we received ours yesterday). Drop boxes will be placed in libraries.
Who Authorized This?
Occasionally, metaphors slap you aside the head—as is the case with the Featured Image and companion, captured with Leica Q2 and iPhone XS, respectively. Both images represent the incursion of territory, in most strange manner. Last week, a road crew etched “North Park” into the so-called traffic calming circle at Alabama and Meade. Workers returned for more letter-cutting today, two blocks farther at Louisiana. Problem: Both intersections are located in University Heights, which boundary extends another four cross-streets south to Lincoln. Uh-oh.
I witnessed an older gentleman mark the structure with chalk on Sept. 27, 2020. I returned the next day with camera in hand. Vitals, aperture manually set: f/8, ISO 100, 1/400 sec, 28mm; 9:16 a.m. PDT. I selectively saturated orange, using Adobe Photoshop Lightroom Classic, to draw out “Mead and Alabama in University Heights”. The other photo shows some of the sandblasted lettering the day of completion, on the 25th. Vitals: f/1.8, ISO 16, 1/1634 sec, 26mm (film equivalent); 4:38 p.m.
Reopen the Playgrounds!
Nearly six months have passed since San Diego cordoned off Trolley Park and others like it around the city. As summer started, the public spaces reopened but the playgrounds remain closed—a restriction that defies common sense and current science regarding SARS-CoV-2 (severe acute respiratory syndrome Coronavirus 2)—also known as COVID-19.
“The best available evidence indicates that COVID-19 poses relatively low risks to school-aged children”, according to the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC). “Children appear to be at lower risk for contracting COVID-19 compared to adults…as of July 17, 2020, the United States reported that children and adolescents under 18 years old account for under 7 percent of COVID-19 cases and less than 0.1 percent of COVID-19-related deaths”. Seasonally, the flu kills more kids—and, unlike that virus, children ages 0-9 are extremely unlikely to be infected with SARS-CoV-2 or to transmit it to adults. In San Diego County from Feb. 14, 2020 to yesterday, among that age bracket, 1,514 tested positive—or 3.3 percent of the 45,425 confirmed cases.
San Diego’s Record House Prices Baffle Me
In a pandemic-stricken economy of soaring unemployment and where small businesses fall like dominos—and more risk toppling because of California Governor Gavin “Gruesome” Newsom’s restrictive lockdown orders—you might expect the housing market to reflect real-world woes. Oddly, though, the median sale price of homes in metro San Diego is a record high of $665,000, according to data collected by Redfin. That’s a 13-percent year-over-year increase, as of Sept. 6, 2020. County-wide, according to the California Association of Realtors, median home price is $732,560, and that’s up 13 percent from August 2019.
My neighborhood, University Heights, reflects the trend—with emphasis. Searching Trulia and Zillow, the bargain-basement-priced listing is a single-bedroom, one-bath, 576-square-foot condominium in a three-story complex looking into an open courtyard. You can live there for $299,900, or $521 per square foot. If that’s too small, how about a cozy two-bed, two-bath, 726-square-foot condo for $415,000; $572 per square foot? Both places are indistinguishable from any apartment for rent; maybe not as good-looking.
Need a Lyft?
Ahead of the SARS-CoV-2 (severe acute respiratory syndrome Coronavirus 2)—also known as COVID-19—pandemic leading to California’s statewide shutdown, electric scooters suddenly vanished from many San Diego County communities. Local governments didn’t want the things cluttering the streets. But, as life returns to some semblance of normalcy, scooters creep back onto the streets, something like cockroaches emerging from Nuclear Winter.
Still, sightings are rare enough in my neighborhood that today I was surprised to see this lone Lyft parked at Alabama and El Cajon, where sits BLVD North Park, which is located in University Heights. If you can’t build real estate in the location you want, pretense naming is your solution.
Flickr a Week 36: ‘Forever Silence’
September starts with the calming classic composition of self-titled “Forever Silence“, which Tobi Gaulke captured on June 6, 2020, using Leica M Monochrome and Summilux-M 35mm f/1.4 ASPH lens. Vitals: f/8, ISO 320, 1/45 sec, […]