Up Your Giant Sequoia

Naughty Boy

Continuing the "Christmas In July" theme that I started last Friday, I came across this picture from Christmas, 2007, and found it amusing. It's also somewhat poignant, because I was a little naughty this past Saturday, and tomorrow's blog post tells about it.

I call this my "crazy face". The key is to think very impure and diabolical thoughts just before making it, working myself into an inner frenzy and then continuing those thoughts as the picture is taken. My ex- girlfriend took this picture, so I have a pretty good idea what the nature of my impure and diabolical thoughts were. 

A Neighbor's Garden

Each year, up the street from me, a neighbor creates a most amazing garden. She's out there every day in the spring, planting, tilling soil, and doing whatever else gardeners do. Come early summer, the results are always spectacular. Just a few weeks ago, I finally stopped one day and told her so. Then a took a few pictures. This shot represents only a small portion of the magic she creates.

Kissing The Giant Sequoia

The immense object that I'm leaning on is not a headwall, but a Giant Sequoia tree. And in case you can't tell, I Photoshoped the Kiss T-shirt on me. I figured you've seen enough of me with my shirt off. For today. But there's always tomorrow...

Bird In The Box

A few years ago, I bought something that came in a long, thin box. I put the box aside in my garage, intending to break it down and recycle it later. Before I had a chance to do that, a bird built a nest inside of it.

One day, I happened to see this little guy just hanging out in his nest. So I grabbed my camera. It appeared as though he was waiting for the right moment to take that leap of faith and fly for the first time. If he could already fly, he would have bolted the second I got this close to him. But he didn't. He just sat there while I took pictures.

I watched him from afar for a while, hoping to catch that first magic moment of flight. But eventually, I had to go. When I came back, he was gone. I don't think I ever saw him again. If I did, I didn't recognize him.

I'm grateful that I had this rare opportunity to look at a young bird so close for so long.