Sally Jo, Questions Without Answers...

It fit my mood, an overcast morning forecasted to deteriorate into heavy rain with flash flooding. Bobbie and I ease into Greenwood Cemetery and park near the office. I crack my window and gaze at endless rows of headstones and monuments. They rise from a struggling lawn, caught in the seasonal purgatory between winter and summer—life and death. The veil of thieving clouds hijacks color, contrast, an shadow, lending a dismal pall to a long overdue occasion. 

Homeward Bound

Though it's only been a short while since I graced (or fouled) these BCB pages, it suddenly feels like we live in an entirely different world.

Camps Catalina and Madera Canyon

Post gold rush days, a wild-eyed movement that pointed easterners westward in search of riches, perhaps today's most precious vanishing commodity is cell-less solitude.

K O'd

As with automobiles and Indiana Jones, it's not the years so much as the mileage.

Desert Mega-Cities Chomping At The Bit Of Unbridled Growth

The water looked so inviting. But, as we all know, "looks" can be deceiving. Belying the lake and landscape's superficial beauty awaited 54 degree ice water. So we skipped the "dip," opting instead to ponder the contradiction of so much precious water in one of the driest desert landscapes on earth.

Oh The Foibles Of Male Man-O-Pause

Those who take no lessons from hindsight are doomed to repeat stupid mistakes.

One Final Deep-Snow Hike With Caleb and Kelli Before Heading South...

Couldn't have asked for a better day to squeeze in one last romp in waist-deep snow. Well, waist deep for Kelli, that is.