Tag: Leica Q2

Photo by Joe WilcoxMar 8, 20219:58 pm

Now There are Two

Last September, my path crossed what I called the “Sidewalk Gym“, along Meade Ave. near Utah Street in San Diego’s North Park neighborhood. The padding wrapped around a tree evoked make-shift, outdoor Mixed Martial Arts arena—and space to workout whenever Governor Gavin “Gruesome” Newsom issued a new lockdown order meant to slow the SARS-CoV-2 (severe acute respiratory syndrome Coronavirus 2)—also known as COVID-19—pandemic.

The space remained a fixture since, with the appropriately-toned motorcycle and SUV typically parked beside the MMA studio. But, today, moseying past, I saw something new: A second motorcycle, which is change enough to assault you with a new Featured Image captured using Leica Q2. Vitals, aperture manually set: f/5.6, ISO 100, 1/400 sec, 28mm; 3:39 p.m. PST.

Photo by Joe WilcoxMar 4, 202110:27 pm

The Twilight Zone of Pandemic Politics

Some things go so oddly together that you must stop and regard them and wonder. Today, while walking along Shirley Ann Place in San Diego’s University Heights neighborhood, a “Recall Newsom” sign surprised me; it’s the first one seen anywhere here. My wife fixated on the Easter eggs hanging from a tree in the same yard. She missed the one thing, and I the other. Mmmm, what does that say about selective vision and being drawn to what interests you while having a blindspot for what doesn’t?

As strangely as the cheerful eggs and hopeful sign are juxtaposed, something else made the scene feel even more Twilight Zone-like: The house beyond with the American flag flew something different before the Presidential election: Old Glory with spray-painted BLM. Well, I couldn’t leave without photos, which were captured using Leica Q2. The Featured Image (warning: 27MB file), which is composed as shot, shows the street. The cropped companion brings together the three elements. Vitals, aperture manually set for both: f/5.6, ISO 100, 1/200 sec, 28mm; 12:25 p.m. PST. The other is f/2.8 and 1/640 sec.

Photo by Joe WilcoxMar 2, 202112:32 pm

The Cats of University Heights: Olive, Too

Our sixtieth feline from Alabama Street, between boundaries Adams and Lincoln, is the second Olive to appear in the series. In the Featured Image, her brother Goose is to the lower right. She sits on the railing where I last photographed Lupe before she and her bondmate Laramie were abandoned by a previous tenant (both were later adopted into a new home).

The portrait comes from Leica Q2, on Feb. 3, 2021. Vitals, aperture manually set: f/4, ISO 200, 1/125 sec, 28mm; 4:54 p.m. PST.

Photo by Joe WilcoxMar 1, 202110:13 pm

The Cats of University Heights: Goose

The number of Alabama cats increases, again—fifty-nine featured in the series for the street between boundaries Adams and Lincoln. Goose (yep, real name) is the first of five recent newcomers, who all live on the same block. In fact, he and his sister Olive reside where once was the home of Laramie and Lupe before they were abandoned by their previous owner, who moved to Arizona, and eventually were adopted after spending nearly a year in foster care.

I used Leica Q2 to shoot the Featured Image on Nov. 5, 2020 and iPhone XS for the companion four days earlier. Vitals, aperture manually set: f/5.6, ISO 100, 1/200 sec, 28mm; 9:30 a.m. PST. The other: f/1.8, ISO 25, 1/122 sec, 26mm (film equivalent); 3:26 p.m. The two growing kittens are let out for romping around time but, by my observation, they spend more time (safely) indoors.

Photo by Joe WilcoxFeb 28, 202110:28 pm

Message to the Homeless?

While walking with my wife along Panorama Drive, in San Diego’s University Heights community, we passed by a sign that I ignored, then turned back to capture. What does “dumping” mean, I wonder. Could it be throwing garbage into the canyon, which access would be difficult but possible from that location? Or could it refer to the business that people do when they need to, ah, relieve themselves?

Pricey Panorama, where are some of the costliest homes in UH, would be one of the neighborhood’s least welcoming of the homeless—and more are seen in the area everyday, although likelier two to three blocks closer to El Cajon Blvd. And, yes, they are known to “dump” in unexpected places. With SARS-CoV-2 (severe acute respiratory syndrome Coronavirus 2)/COVID-19 restrictions keeping eatery dining rooms closed and most retailers barring bathrooms to the public, everyone is limited on where to go when nature calls. So I got to wonder, who is the sign meant for?

Photo by Joe WilcoxFeb 27, 20219:27 pm

Daring Daffodils

Soon after shooting the Monarch on the aromatic purple flowers, on Feb. 23, 2021, I captured a delightful collection of daffodils; but they bleached out in the sunlight and they weren’t focused within the narrow […]

Photo by Joe WilcoxFeb 26, 20218:29 pm

The Cats of University Heights: Paws

The Featured Image of our sixty-second putty seen behind window or door won’t win awards—or even be considered for one. The make-do portrait is from a single sighting, along Madison near Monroe. I used Leica Q2 to capture the moment, Adobe Lightroom Classic to crop and edit, and DXO ViewPoint 3 to align the perspective of vertical and horizontal lines. Vitals, aperture manually set: f/5.6, ISO 100, 1/1250 sec, 28mm; 12:50 p.m. PST, Nov. 22, 2020. As the shooting date reveals, we’re still working through the backlog of photographed but unpublished kitties.

The tuxedo earns nickname Paws for the distinctive black color between its toes. The contrast is becoming.

Photo by Joe WilcoxFeb 25, 20218:20 pm

The Monarch and I agree: What an Aroma

San Diego is a three-season climate: Early Summer, Mid Summer, and Late Summer. The first fully flourishes: Little birds tweet; crows caw; citrus grows in residents’ yards; squirrels scamper; and non-perennials burst with fresh flowers; among many other delights. In some other locale, these things would be signs of Spring, but Summer never really ends here and merely transitions from states of vitality—which booms this fine February. Despite the drier-than-typical third season, lusciousness abounds. Sights and sounds of vibrant life are everywhere.

Smells, too. While walking along Meade Ave. between Alabama and Mississippi, in the University Heights community, on Feb. 23, 2021, a wondrously friendly fragrance greeted my nostrils, and I stopped to regard the source—the purple flowers you see in the Featured Image. The Monarch presented photographic opportunity, and I pulled out Leica Q2 for two deliberate but hasty shots. Luckily, the first is wings down; the unpublished other, they’re up. Vitals, aperture manually set: f/5.6, ISO 100, 1/500 sec, 28mm; 10:39 a.m. PST.

Photo by Joe WilcoxFeb 24, 20219:33 pm

The Cats of University Heights: Dido and Dodger

I profess ignorance about the ways which feisty felines negotiate territory. Two cats regarding one another is a commonly observed occurrence, particularly as the neighborhood’s demographics change—and the number of kitty owners increases. Last week, I passed by newcomer Pepto standing on the fence outside the home where lives long-time resident Daniel Tiger, who sat back-to on a table in his front yard. Likewise, Ash and Nelson often are seen together. All four have different owners.

On Nov. 10, 2020, I observed a new territorially tense pair somewhere on the West side of Park Blvd. Because the house number is so prominently displayed, I won’t disclose location—other than to note that a “For Rent” sign stood outside the property on that sunny morning. Both beasties had collars and tags, but neither would let me approach close enough to read their names. For now, let’s call the black Dido and the tiger Dodger.

Photo by Joe WilcoxFeb 18, 20217:55 pm

The Cats of University Heights: Clover

I am no expert in the ways of territory—how kitties define and defend it or permit another animal’s presence. Throughout the neighborhood, I will see cats regarding one another, sharing space in fairly close proximity without otherwise challenging or engaging. Such was the occurrence on Feb. 2, 2021, when an intruder sat some distance from the beauty that I call Tortie; in her yard.

The newcomer earns nickname Clover; I couldn’t approach close enough to read the name tag. I used Leica Q2 to take the Featured Image. Vitals, aperture manually set: f/5.6, ISO 125, 1/125 sec, 28mm; 3:04 p.m. PST. The companion, captured using iPhone XS, is better composed but nowhere near as sharp. Vitals: f/2.4, ISO 16, 1/139 sec, 52mm (film equivalent): 3:06 p.m.

Photo by Joe WilcoxFeb 16, 20217:06 pm

Accidents are Inevitable

My relentless criticism of so-called “traffic calming measures”—part of the future Georgia-Meade bikeway—continues with a current look down Meade from Georgia. Click on the Featured Image hyperlink and take a close look at the activity at Alabama, where is the first of the traffic circles that replaces stop signs.

You are witness to a near accident—as two vehicles converge from different directions. Who should yield to whom isn’t always obvious, which is gravely complicated by poor visibility for some approaching vehicles and the speed with which many drivers enter the roundabout intersections. I can’t imagine how much more dangerous will these circles be when the route officially opens to bicycles.

Photo by Joe WilcoxFeb 14, 20219:46 pm

A Valentine’s Day Story

A favored walking route from Old Trolley Barn Park is the alley between Alabama and Florida streets. Occasionally, Pace (pronounced paw-chay, according to his owner) appears—and, on some days, Coon or Ghost (both nicknames) in an adjacent, expansive yard. Today, I passed by a woman either emptying recyclables or trash (not sure which) and she wished: “Happy Valentine’s Day”. She was cheerful, which emotion a higher-pitch voice accentuated. Her apartment overlooks the alley, and she recognized me from looking out her windows on other days.

The 35-year-old Salt Lake City native has resided in San Diego for about a decade. We talked about the terrible expense of living here, mainly housing, which she offsets by having a roommate and adopting a minimalist lifestyle. Governor Gavin “Gruesome” Newsom’s several SARS-CoV-2 (severe acute respiratory syndrome Coronavirus 2)/COVID-19 lockdowns put her on unemployment twice, which led her to become entrepreneurial, rather than depressed and destitute. Adapting her mom’s recipe, she bakes and sells chocolate chip cookies by the dozen—$15 a box.