As I write there is an enormous thunderstorm underway in this part of San Diego; first rumbles and flashes started more than two hours ago. The cracks of thunder are overhead and all around now; […]
Tag: urban photography
Rascal
A few months ago, my wife reported seeing a skunk in our apartment complex courtyard in the wee hours when still dark. I’m a night owl and she’s an early bird. A few weeks back, I saw the stinker skulking along where mulch meets cement, foraging for something. He or she, sometimes a pair, returns for nearly nightly excursions—and I worry about an untimely, unfortunate encounter with one of the other residents. There are 18 apartments and anybody going in or out—that includes late-night Uber Eats deliveries—could scare some stinky spray.
Before bed, I make last rounds to ensure the apartment is secure—for example: locked front door; gas burners off; water faucets shut. Around 12:15 a.m. PDT, today, when closing up, I spotted our striped friend, whom Annie and I call Rascal, sniffing about. Quarter-hour later, I pulled out Leica Q2 and shot several photos through the dining room window. At ISO 10000, they’re grainy as all heck and not really recoverable.
Bouncy Ball
I made two meaningless discoveries along Alabama Street between Madison and Mission, today: The hanging kiddie swing is gone; a child’s ball remains, but the bouncy wasn’t there yesterday. Earlier this month, toys disappeared from the front yard of the house where once lived black kitty Petri and his owner; last week a “For Rent” sign hung from the fence. So I strongly suspected that the family had moved on. Confirmed.
The ball lay on the grassy knoll between sidewalk and street before the property where once resided Giotto and where I more recently photographed Sundown. All three animals are profiled in my “Cats of University Heights” series.
Patriotic Motif or Something Else?
During the same walk that I photographed Crepe Myrtle blossoms, on Aug. 25, 2021, a seemingly patriotic-painted utility box caught my attention at 54th and El Cajon Blvd. While I used iPhone XS to make several shots, a gentlemen coming down the sidewalk asked about my interest in the thing—surprised and maybe a bit amused. Easy explanation: Walking home from the dentist, I saw something interesting.
As I separated from him at brisk pace, because my wife waited for me several blocks farther along, he politely yelled: “Welcome to my neighborhood!” I turned back and thanked him with wave and smile. If only more people in San Diego were so friendly.
You Can’t Call 911
This payphone is one of many things out of place along University Avenue in downtown Hillcrest. At my request, today, Annie dropped me in the San Diego neighborhood when she went out on an errand. I walked home, for a change in scenery. Eh, what a change.
As I stood at the stoplight, waiting to cross Sixth Avenue, something tumbled end over end over University and landed in the gutter across the way. Then a skinny, shirtless, suntanned dude strutted across the street—haughty and boisterous. He picked up what looked like a metal pipe or handle and began twirling it combat-style. I pushed the walk button to cross University rather than Sixth.
Storm Warning
They say it never rains in Southern California—until a thunderstorm rolls in without warning. This evening, I ventured out for a late-day walk and progressed one-and-a-half blocks from my apartment, when rain drops started falling. I had been looking West to mainly clear skies, where hung a crescent moon. A downpour commenced seconds later, and I took refuge in an apartment building carport. Meanwhile, lightning flashed and thunder roared.
I used Leica Q2 Monochrom to capture the Featured Image, looking out at the clear horizon while water pummeled everything about me. Vitals, aperture manually set: f/1.7, ISO 5000, 1/125 sec, 28mm; 7:33 p.m. PDT. The photo is cropped to remove building overhang but otherwise is presented as rendered RAW.
Desperate Hunter
About a month ago, I heard some commotion a few streets away and a woman yelling loudly to someone else: “It’s a coyote!” The location is far enough away from a canyon to be surprising. Over the weeks that followed, my wife observed occasional Nextdoor posts about additional sightings—mainly between Alabama and Louisiana either along Madison or Mission.
This morning, as Annie and I walked on Louisiana approaching Mission, she spotted a coyote strutting down the sidewalk on the other side of Madison moving towards Adams. We followed. The animal’s left rear leg was clearly injured, and the skinny beast hobbled on the other three. When she first saw the coyote, it was under the magnificent tree that I shared with you in June 2021.
Ripe and Ready
Call my obsession with grapes overkill photography, but I must present one last look at the vine located between Campus and Cleveland along Meade in San Diego’s University Heights neighborhood. They’re gone now; someone picked them, or so seems the case.
I worried they would ripen and rot, being located between sidewalk and street rather than on someone’s property. Thankfully, they appear not to have been wasted—like so much other fruit languishing from lush trees outside residences. I don’t understand why. Food is precious, and the berries and citrus that I see requires so little human effort to grow.
All That Remains
I more frequently walk down the Louisiana block between El Cajon and Meade, here in University Heights, looking to see when (now vacant) houses and shops at the corner will be leveled and another—ah-hum, morbid—San Diego redevelopment project begins. Two months ago, I explained how the forthcoming demolition led to the sudden closure of Postal Convenience Center, after 35 years in business.
Across the street is the abandoned Twisted Taps, which flatlined during last year’s SARS-CoV-2 (severe acute respiratory syndrome Coronavirus 2)/COVID-19 lockdowns. On Aug. 24, 2021, while scouting Louisiana, I stopped to gawk at the mural on the side of the closed brewery/eatery and captured the Featured Image. Vitals, aperture manually set: f/5.6, ISO 100, 1/160 sec, 10:06 a.m. PDT.
Yeah, Let’s Lower Old Glory to Honor Them
Since the disastrous defeat in Afghanistan—self-imposed, but denied, by the current Administration in Washington, D.C.—I have observed a number of American flags flying half-mast in my neighborhood of University Heights. The question: Why aren’t they all?
San Diego is still very much a military town, and Marine Corps Base Camp Pendleton is located in the Northern section of the county. Nine Marines and a Sailor stationed there were killed in the Kabul Airport bombing about 10 days ago. The White House ordered half-staff flags for the fallen heroes—yeah, let’s lower Old Glory to honor them. So why are only a few of my neighbors doing so—again, remembering the area’s military heritage, the Navy, especially.
Where There’s Smoke…
The evening started with a brush fire here in University Heights. San Diego police and fire crews blocked access to Old Trolley Barn Park, which is the Featured Image, and along Panorama Drive. As Annie and I approached the area, on foot, a helicopter made several passes dropping water on the blaze. Obstructing trees prevented my making the shot. I had to accept two others, and they are presented for documentation’s sake.
I used Leica Q2 to take all photos. Vitals for the first, aperture manually set for each: f/5.6, ISO 250, 1/125 sec, 28mm; 6:28 p.m. PDT. Smoke can be seen beyond the playground, rising up from the canyon, which is center and to the right beyond a fence.
The Music Box
This must rank as the strangest thing seen in any University Heights yard—and I wonder what is the backstory. Is a harp inside the crate? Was an instrument delivered or waits pick up? Could the rustic box be placed as a lawn ornament, recognizing that no rain is expected to fall in San Diego for months? Surely even empty the wooden container is valuable—for collectible vintage, shipping usability, or both.
My wife and I passed by the crate, earlier today, while walking along Mission near Florida. Later, I left her at our apartment and returned to shoot the Featured Image and companion—both using Leica Q2. Vitals for the first, aperture manually set for both: f/4, ISO 100, 1/250 sec, 28mm; 9:36 a.m. PDT.