Bent to the task

An abiding image of Antigua is that of indigenous women from the campo (the countryside) bent to work from dawn to dusk, toting the heavy loads of life. While their colorful Mayan attire would seem to call for the technicolor treatment, black and white conveys the weight of their burden more fully. And the shadows lend a certain poignancy to the depictions it seems to me.

I am woman hear me roar

From Helen Reddy’s 1971 paean to feminism to the central park in Antigua, Guatemala the voices of a hundred or so women and not a few men were raised in solidarity and in hope and resistance of the virulent strain of intolerance, misogyny and xenophobia that has swept 43% of our country. To observe it was to be lifted by the joyful noise. Here are faces in a crowd of strong women the likes of which were heard in the millions around the globe.

Helen Reddy turned 75 years old in October.

Por Qué No

The photograph called Lonely Place came in second in the renowned Keeler, California photographic sweepstakes of 2006. This is my fallback post since I will be jet-lagged somewhere in Central America on the 15th and reeling from an excess of cerveza negra consumed at my pocket sized favorite corner bar. Por Qué No.

That proved to be wishful thinking as Por Que No was cerrado on domingo and I wound up at a British pub waiting an hour for a mediocre burger while quaffing dark beer and watching the Green Bay packers eke out a victory over the favored Dallas Cowboys with three seconds to go. One Brit, one Welsh rugby player cum sailor and one Utah Mormon later I'm posting this with only a modicum of interest. Yawn.

For your perusal as usual

Reflection in puddle, Los Angeles

Looking back at a year of images serves a purpose I suppose. You see what you saw in the year just ended and, objectively speaking, how you came up short and where you, on occasion, got one right. For the second and last time I’ve sorted through the year that was and have these eclectic numbers for your perusal.

Metropolitan Water Building, Los Angeles

San Cristobal and Sangre de Cristos

Andrew Abeyta and newborns

Generations, Denver

Time warp, Lowell, AZ

Silvery stream near Tucumcari

Gnome with ear horn, Bisbee, AZ

Luis at Llano San Juan

Pilings in surf, San Simeon Beach

A short look back - 2016

Wavy gravy in Boston

Found art at Old Bent's Fort in southern Colorado

Curly Heads, San Simeon Beach, CA

On the first day of 2017 it’s appropriate to reprise some images from a year that is memorable for some and lamentable for others. That’s as close to political discourse as you will ever see on these pages.

Bill Davis on Kit Carson Road in Taos

Corrugated fence in Bisbee, AZ

As I explored the detritus of the year gone by the photographs above and below spoke to me in some fashion and, so, are included in my annual hall of shame.

National Day of the Cowboy on the Mortenson Ranch

Reflection in a pothole, downtown LA

Los Angeles skyscape from the Biltmore Hotel

On Highway 104 between Tucumcari and Las Vegas

Aglow in Denver

Stacks in fog, Morro Bay

Happy New Year everybody.

Stormy Weather

Approaching Bryce Canyon nearly four years back we encountered a blowing snowstorm with temps in the twenties. Today’s entry befits the gusting winds and 7 inches of fresh snow that greeted us when we awoke to this (Sunday) morning. Yes, I write these posts on Sunday and they publish at 3am every Monday morning.

I hope you had a warm and wonderful Christmas.

Deconstructionist German Expressionist Architecture for short

Ray and Maria Stata Center which houses the MIT Computer Sciences and Artificial Intelligence Center was designed by Frank Gehry and opened to much fanfare in 2004. Referred to as Deconstructionist in style its roots are traced to the German Expressionist architecture of the 1920s. Because it sits at 32 Vassar Street in Cambridge, Massachusetts it is commonly called Building 32.

The building directly above is unidentified which is to say, I don’t remember its name nor can I find an image of it online. If you do happen to know its moniker give me shout.

Sky Lines Boston Edition

The Prudential Building

In the Boston area for a buddy’s 70^th I gave myself one afternoon, night and morning to walk the very walkable city and add to my growing Sky Lines series. Come to think of it, the great American cities, Manhattan, San Francisco and Boston are walking cities. That's partly because they're relatively small geographically and people actually live "downtown."

I parked at my beloved MFA (Museum of Fine Art) thinking that I’d do my stroll, stash my camera and partake of its wonders. Well, that didn’t happen because by the time I got back to the garage it was nearing check-in time and it was more important to me to take a long run along the Charles River than ponder art. Running on the Esplanade among the hundreds of other runners remains one of my favorite routes, indeed things, in the known universe. I'm given to rituals, touchstones of joy.

Dennis Dodge House

The Dennis Dodge House at 10 County Street, Ipswich, Massachusetts

Greater Boston is the place we lived the longest, 1973-76, 1980-2002. That’s 25 years in the Boston area. Add a couple of years in southern Connecticut and two more in northern New Hampshire and we flirted with 30 years in New England. That lengthy period infused us with great love for Yankee values and the rich history of the place. The first house that we owned was The Dennis-Dodge House on County Road in Ipswich, Massachusetts, locals say “Mass.” Built in 1740 the then brown gambrel saltbox sat on the corner a block from the Ipswich River. 

We frolicked at Crane Beach, one of the country’s finest, from which we could see Plum Island and Newburyport in the distance. A handful of miles east in Essex we ate steamers, lobster and fried Little Neck Clams at Woodman’s. The legendary clam shack claims to have invented the fried clam. Ipswich is where we started skiing. Nearly every winter weekend we’d drive to Gunstock above Lake Winnipesauke in southern New Hampshire. We’d ski all day before heading home by way of The Grog in Newburyport for a bowl of chowder. Yet again food looms large. Why are you not surprised?

Our son was baptized by rector Edward French of Ascension Memorial Church just down the street. He’d been John Updike’s Harvard roommate. French’s wife was a fiery redhead and the Ballantine beer heiress. The reverend drove a white 1963 Mercedes 280 SE convertible. To this day my favorite car. Ever.

The Jacobean stairway with oversized King George boards to the left. The wide boards were quite illegal as they were to be used exclusively for his majesty's ships of war.

I drove at least 30 miles in each direction to my office in Burlington and never once regretted the time or distance. It was pure joy to arrive at our clapboard classic with its seven working fireplaces which included a walk-in hearth replete with a beehive oven. The best Thanksgivings and Christmases ever were celebrated in the Dennis-Dodge House. There’s Christmas and there’s a New England Christmas. Makes me misty to remember.

Since I have no photographs of my own to illustrate this look back I’ve have had to rely on small files from the public domain. 

Naked Fruit

Standing in the 94-degree heat at Tablas Creek Winery in Paso Robles and a trifling 9009 kilometers from Domaine du Beaucastel in Chateauneuf du Pape I am about to reap the wonders of the Grenache grape. Grenache is the dominant grape in the powerful wines of the southern Rhone valley of France, the region that we think of as Provence and more specifically the Vaucluse and the Luberon. When blended with the Syrah and Mourvedre the lofty Chateauneuf du Pape and its less known neighbor Gigondas are wines that are inky, smoky, earthy and mouth-filling treasures, the epitome of terroir driven wines. 20 years ago you could buy a Gigondas in the states for $10 and now they fetch $40. And that $10 bottle was just $4.00 at the vineyard in the lovely village of Gigondas in the mid-nineties and a garden variety Cote du Rhone was a paltry $2.50. My how time flies.

In Central California the sugar laden Grenache produces wines that are more fruit forward than their French counterparts and, since I’ve never met a fruit bomb I didn’t love, I favor the New World iteration.

We arrived at Tablas Creek smack in the middle of harvest known as “vendage” in France and while we didn't observe the picking we invited ourselves to take a closer look at the pressing of the Grenache grape, a look that included a mouthful of the sweet berries right off the vine. A well-tuned taster could probably predict the success of the vintage based on the sweetness and flavor of the naked fruit itself. And according to my novice taste buds the Tablas Creek’s 2016 Grenache and blends thereof will be killer.

Distant Cousins

The portal of the 1797 Mission San Miguel Archangel, the 16th of  Padre Junipero Serra's 21 California Missions.

Famed San Francisco de Asis in Ranchos de Taos, NM built between 1772 and 1816. 

Like the Spanish Colonial churches of New Mexico, the Spanish missions of California intrigue me. Though they were built at the same time, the late 18^th century to the early 19^th, they are very different. Why should two Catholic churches built at virtually the same time be so dissimilar?

My first guess is that it’s because of native American or Pueblo design influences in New Mexico and Moorish ones in California. What's your take on this riddle?

The pitched tile roof of San Miguel.

The rear buttress of San Francisco or Ranchos Church.

Comparing San Miguel Archangel in San Miguel, California nine miles north of Paso Robles to San Francisco de Asis in Ranchos de Taos, NM the differences are stark. In San Miguel there’s a sprawling “mission style” layout and long portal or portico. It feels more evolved and finer. Not finer in the qualitative sense but finer as in finished. San Francisco is more muscular, organic and contained.

The materials used were the same, adobe and timber, but in California curved earthen adobe roof tiles called tejas were employed and the architectural lines are more angular and the stucco colors lighter compared to the mud tones of New Mexican iglesias.

Massive buttresses are a feature of colonial churches in New Mexico whereas slightly pitched tiled roofs typify the "Mission Style" in California.