Along Adams Ave., at the end of the bridge above Texas Street, I spotted some huge birds in the trees below. The vantage point presented another opportunity to see how good (or bad) Samsung Galaxy S24 Ultra could be shooting distant objects.
Unlike the S23 Ultra, which packs 10x optical lens, the newer model relies on 5x optical and in-camera close-cropping 50-megapixels to produce something that is supposed to be as good as, or better than, the last-generation smartphone. You judge.
What an unfortunate day for me to run an errand out to Ocean Beach. Congestion and traffic marked the afternoon. Wonderful weather—sunny and 21 degrees Celsius (70 Fahrenheit)—was one reason. Kite Festival was another—and what a crowd! Then there was the Pro-Palestinian protest along Sunset Cliffs Blvd to the corner of West Point Loma.
While waiting in traffic on I-8, something odd piqued my curiosity. Where there was nothing but greenery along the highway, a mound rose covered in pink and white flowers. Why there and nowhere else? I wondered. The mound’s shape and size made me think grave—and the flowers, too. Dare I suggest fertilizer?
Sharing recent finds does little to profile the kitties lost in the backlog queue. Yet here we are. The Featured Image comes from Samsung Galaxy S24 Ultra on May 14, 2024. Vitals: f/3.4, ISO 40, 1/120 sec, (synthetic) 230mm (digital and optical zoom); 5:07 p.m. PDT
Initially, I thought this black might be Rick roamed to another street on his block. But near as either my wife or I could see, the cat had either little or no tail. As such, given apparent shape, I want to nickname Bear, but that one already appeared in the series. Hence the doubling, which actually is better.
Crunched-time schedule means no post for the previous two days. We resume with another fine feline—the one-hundred-thirty-first found behind door or window. Sighting street is withheld; sorry `bout that.
I used Samsung Galaxy S24 Ultra to capture the Featured Image, on May 11, 2024. Vitals: f/3.4, ISO 40, 1/120 sec, (synthetic) 230mm (digital and optical zoom); 3:51 p.m. PDT. Nickname: Vim.
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.
I rarely photograph San Diego homeless, as a silent sign of respect. But, today, one gentlemen so surprised me that I felt compelled to take the shot—well, several. Walking East on Meade Ave., I saw him sleeping on the sidewalk across the way, where Mission cuts diagonally—think 45 degrees—from the intersection at Park Blvd.
The sleep mask is what intrigued me. He looked so unusually comfortable, lying on the cement, which was surprising, too. Foot and vehicular traffic is fairly brisk, and noisy, on a Friday afternoon; then there is the bus stop—a couple meters away, at most. Yet he looked so serene and lay motionless, but in an open space where homeless are otherwise uncommon.
Seven years ago today, I shot the Featured Image, using Leica Q. Bruce, who shared residence with Guido and Little, waited for his owner. The previous week, I got a glimpse of the woman walking her dog (Dakota), and the short-legged kitty ambling along with them. What a wonderful sight, and I had to know more. Scouting about led me to one of the neighborhood’s handsomest—and most beloved—cats.
A few years later, over the Christmas holidays, Dakota passed away, That put an end to the dog-cat walks, until some months later when Bruce’s owner—now one of our favorite neighbors—rescued the amicable Apple. In some dictionary somewhere, sweetness is defined by a description of that dog. Sigh. She suddenly passed away last week, as was explained yesterday. Bruce is gone, too; he vanished over Memorial Day weekend 2023.
On April 30, 2024, one of our favorite neighbors said sad goodbye to her beloved dog, Apple. Six days earlier, she took the animal to a veterinarian for surgery to remove a mass on the rump. But the procedure had to be aborted, and our neighbor received an overall grim prognosis but still with some months, even longer, of expected life left. Apple declined, however, looks like mainly because of the surgery, and she died. I received the teary phone call one week ago; yes, last Wednesday.
Already our neighbor suffered the loss of University Heights East’s favorite cat, Bruce, who vanished over Memorial Day weekend 2023. Beloved neighborhood runners-up: Pepto and Rick, who Apple visited on her walks. We all loved the dog, and our neighbor had amazing rapport and daily routine with Apple.
T long-delayed ophthalmologist appointment finally occurred today. That meant massive dilation to check my optical implants. My pupils were massively large, such that the iris in each eye rimmed so thinly that my best analogy is the muted corona around last month’s total solar eclipse.
As such, I spent most of the day indoors, hiding from sunlight, and only ventured outside after dark—and what a glorious evening, too. Mild: 16 Celsius (61 Fahrenheit). Despite temporarily impaired vision, I brought along Leica Q2 Monochrom.
The one-hundred-thirtieth feline found behind door or window is typical: Name unknown, so I must create one. But my creative choosing has limits, so, please, forgive my stretching to reach this one.
Surely you are familiar with roasting a sugary s’more around the campfire: Chocolate, graham cracker, and marshmallow. The cat’s colors are perfect for the confection. Don’t you agree?
We return to Mission Beach for a final time, from my April 29, 2024 quickie visit. Subject of the Featured Image is the person working the sand with a metal detector, as two other folks stop their walk to watch.
Once again, I pulled out Samsung Galaxy S24 Ultra to make the moment. Vitals: f/3.4, ISO 32, 1/1900 sec, (synthetic) 230mm (digital and optical zoom); 10:39 a.m. PDT. In post-production, I started to lighten up the dark areas, but instead decided to leave the photo as shot. Moody is better, and everyone is considerable distance away.
We aren’t yet done with Mission Beach, which is about a 14-kilometer (8.7-mile) drive from my apartment. San Diego has no shortage of coastal jaunts, and I admit to taking them for granted more than taking advantage of them.
The Featured Image is a dumb, fun shot. I don’t know why the sand toys were on that wall. They didn’t appear to belong to anyone, but a nearby shop had more outside. Purpose: Unknown.