At least a couple of times a week, I am surprised by what neighbors will deposit for someone else to take. Some of this stuff is quite nice and could be put up for sale.
Over the years, we’ve gleaned some valuables of significance, ranging from kitchen utensils to furniture. You never know what will turn up—from whom and why and who the takers might be.
“If it lives, kill it” might as well be the axiom across San Diego city and the close-in communities, like the Village of University Heights or nearby Hillcrest and North Park. Insecticide is spread among so many properties that I am surprised there are any insects at all. Butterflies still flourish as do house flies, crickets, and some spiders. But they don’t thrive and their numbers are diminished.
Far more serious is the carnage among things that grow. Homeowners chop down trees, tear out grass, and replace lovely green spaces with cold concrete and wood structures, so-called Accessary Dwelling Units, or ADUs. The city wants them, and residents are rewarded for erecting ADUs. Other folks keep the lawn space but replace grass with wood chips or sand; trees of every kind, even those bearing fruit, are destroyed and replaced with succulents.
This is a Featured Image too long delayed in sharing. The view is from the Skyfari Aerial Tram at San Diego Zoo. Building in the foreground is the California Tower, which is located in nearby Balboa Park. The structure was built in 1915.
I really enjoy the zoo, but we haven’t visited since December. The new parking fees, for which members are exempt, created inertia we never overcame. Parking is more complicated now with mixed free and fee, bringing about congestion and confusion.
In six entries, I have written directly, or used photos of, the alley art gallery located here in University Heights. Chronologically: “Alley Art Gallery“; “Mutt Masterpiece(s)“; Pallet Palette; “Eighteen Years Ago Today“; “Return to Facebook“; and “In Memory of Scott Adams“.
On April 8, 2026, in front of the artwork, I passed by two bicycles put out for the taking. These aren’t the first free bikes to appear in a neighborhood alley—one person’s throwaway becoming valued takeaway for somebody else.
This post is not a commentary on immigration enforcement, ICE raids, or the troubles in Minnesota. Emotions are so piqued and polarized, any meaningful discussion seems pointless. I observe that people either oppose or support ICE actions—vehemently, with little middle ground for meaningful discussion.
However, the Featured Image is meant to present passive resistance as manifested in my San Diego neighborhood of University Heights. The sign on the Little Free Library speaks for itself. Look lower left and you will see hanging the last whistle. Half a minute earlier, ahead of me, a woman walking her dog took the second-to-last one.
San Diego weather is unseasonably mild this week. For example, today’s high was 22 degrees Celsius (72 Fahrenheit). Forecast is 23 C (74 F) tomorrow, with no measurable cooling for the remainder of the week; what a treat, or would be, if not for the flu.
I find sunlight—heat, more so—to be therapeutic. That makes reading in the car appealing right now, and I walk when temperature is highest. But I don’t want to directly infect anyone, so I traverse the alleys, like we Wilcoxes did during the SARS-CoV-2/COVID-19 lockdowns. There are many fewer face-to-face encounters.
The longest government shutdown in U.S. history means millions of people are not receiving federal funds for basics—you know, things like food. People employed by Uncle Sam are either furloughed or working without pay (and delayed only, hopefully). Don’t get me going about families who count on SNAP benefits and won’t receive them for November.
To the Congress, I say this: Do your job! Pass a damn budget. Stop pissing away days whining over line items like expiring subsidies for the Affordable Care Act. Agree to punt! Fund the damn government for X number of days and fight among yourselves meantime about a final budget. Don’t punish people while you bicker like kids in the schoolyard or, worse, an angry soon-to-be-divorced couple gouging one another in spiteful rages over splitting assets (or assigning child custody).
Before ever using a Leica, or understanding the brand’s value to collectors and photographers, I discovered several vintage film cameras for sale in an Ocean Beach, Calif. antique mall. None sold for more than $100; I possibly passed up an unexpectedly good opportunity.
That was November 2010. Fastforward to Nov. 10, 2024, when I walked by more vintage gear—this time for projecting videos and more, outside a camera store along Adams Avenue in the grey zone where a sliver of North Park separates Normal Heights and University Heights.
For days upon days, I passed by these boots left out for someone—anyone—to take. San Diego isn’t known for rain, but a storm pelted them sometime after I shot the Featured Image on Feb. 11, 2025. I might have grabbed them, but they weren’t my size and need for work boots is zero.
But I liked looking at them—well-worn and broken in. They’ likely have many more years of wear than what appearances might suggest. They’re rugged, and I hope enough that they survived the rain. Someone took them the next day of sun, or so it seems. They disappeared.
May 8, 2024. In my news feed, several tech blogs spotlighted Google Store’s sudden, shocking trade-in offer for Pixel Tablet: Up to $399—equivalent to the price of the 128GB variant—in exchange for one of many, many iPad models. Free plus sales tax is a rather compelling offer.
The device launched a year earlier, making so little positive impression that I ordered two Samsung Galaxy tabs—one for my wife and another for me. Pixel Tablet looks even more inferior than 12 months ago, coming right as Apple released new iPads packing M4 chips. But they do cost mountains of cash more. Got an organ to sell? Kidneys fetch a good return, I hear.
Memory of my maternal grandmother: Grapefruit for breakfast, regardless of season—and I wonder where she bought the citrus during Northern Maine winters. I never had a taste for the bitter, over-sized oranges but my wife does.
So we were delighted to find some, set out by a neighbor, yesterday. She is caretaker of Rick, one of the “Cats of University Heights“. Annie grabbed two, while I waited and thanked our benefactor. How sweet: She put out bags for people to carry their fruit.
Because Cali overtook my lap—and I let her—posting is later than planned and topic changed. Please pardon another black-and-white Featured Image—from Leica Q2 Monochrom. Vitals, aperture manually set: f/4.5, ISO 200, 1/3200 sec, 28mm; 1:01 p.m. PDT, March 26, 2024. Composed as captured.
I came upon the doll and collection of reference books—put out free for the taking—while walking along Madison Ave within the corridor where North Park wedges between San Diego neighborhoods Normal Heights and University Heights.