365 Photo Project - Day 40

Taken: February 9, 2010, sunset
Location: Palisades Park, Santa Monica, CA

Well, it's time for me to say goodbye to the City of Angels for now. Looks like barring any last-minute developments, I'll be heading north tomorrow. I have a feeling I'll be back in L.A. soon but after more than two weeks away from wine country, I'm anxious to return.

So, I'm waving so long with a tasty Umami truffle burger (thanks Susie!) and one last image of the sun setting over the Pacific, So Cal style. It will be good to sleep in my own bed and I won't even mind the pugs taking over half of it. And also to discover what images await up north.

This shot was taken with my K100D and edited in Photoshop.

365 Photo Project - Day 37

Taken: February 6, 2010, approx. 3 p.m.
Location: Palisades Park, Santa Monica, CA

I have always lived on one coast or the other, never in the middle. I've found homes in big cities and small towns, in suburbs and planned communities, in urban neighborhoods and at the end of cul de sacs. East, West, North, South. Upstairs, in the basement and at the end of two-mile dirt roads. Wherever  I've called home has brought a degree of tranquility. Yet I have found that I am never more at peace than when I can be near the sea.

I didn't grow up on the water but my parents used to take us to Martha's Vineyard every summer (and often for one- or two-week trips in between) and it was there I came to love living near water. I'm not a classic seafaring type. I don't much like swimming in it and while I admire surfers, I'm not coordinated enough to do that. I love to sail but I'm no expert and I'm too impatient to be good at fishing or even sunbathing.

What I love is just being in the ocean's neighborhood. The smell of sand and seaweed, of fish and salt and that particular way a good sea breeze can clear out your sinuses and cleanse your soul. I love sitting on a creaky wooden dock, listening to the pinging of halyard on mast, the slapping of the wake against fiberglass hulls, the soft cooing of birds, the whoosh of the tide. I love getting lost in the endless layers of things that float in on the wind. If I can dip my toes in the ocean at the same time, well that's just gravy.

Our house in Santa Monica was just close enough to the beach that you could hear the waves at night. Off in the distance, it would mix with the sounds of the traffic on Pico Blvd. Perfect sleeping weather although I often found myself lying awake, staring at the ceiling, quietly listening. In the morning as the marine layer would slowly burn off, the scent of the sea was everywhere, reminders of our proximity to the Pacific. I miss that.

These days, I live close enough to the water -- 35 minutes by car -- that the longing to be near the ocean isn't piercing and there's always my regular trips to L.A. to quench my thirst. But I know without a doubt that someday I'll have to return to my sea and my sea-gazing for real.  For now, I'll take fleeting moments like today when I stood out at Palisades Park in between (and during) the rains and marveled at the way the sun sparkled through cloud patterns, how the surface of the ocean rippled gently in a cold breeze, seemingly stretching out forever, endless.  Even a passing storm's fat drops of cold rain couldn't interrupt the magic of the moment.

This image was as close as I could get to capturing it. Taken with my k100D, 55mm lens and edited in Photoshop.

365 Photo Project - Day 34

Taken: February 3, 2010, approx. 10:30 p.m.
Location: Pico Blvd. at Lincoln, Santa Monica, CA

I took this photo a stone's throw from where we used to live in Santa Monica. Not far from here is the first apartment I rented when I came to L.A. and later, where my husband and I bought and renovated an amazing house that we sold before the bubble burst.  Being back here is always strange for me, maybe a bit melancholy too. I used to think I'd grow old near this corner of Lincoln and Pico --  felt like I'd put down some serious roots here. Funny how life works.  So many twists and turns, many strangely are not as much painful as unexpected.

I'd like to think a person can work with that. The surprises along the way I mean. You don't have to be old and wise to realize there are only winding curves and death-spiral drops on the road of life.  But if it  will never run straight and true, it's still there, always lying out there before us. As Bruce says, "like a killer in the sun".  Not surprisingly, the Boss was on to something.

I'm like a lot of people. I let the small shit get to me;  I spend so much time trying to get away from the world, I forget that the point is not to run away but to find something to run to. Make no mistake: destinations are for hacks. It's the journey down that winding road that gives us the most satisfaction.  At least it does for me.

The things one thinks about on a drive through the old neighborhood, eh?

These two guys were riding in front of me as I drove home from dinner in Culver City. They were on old bikes, that choked and sputtered and apparently didn't go very fast. I used my K100D and the 200mm lens, editing gently with Photoshop.

365 Photo Project - Day 33

Taken: February 2, 2010, sunset
Location: Palisades Park, Santa Monica, CA

Been in L.A. for more than a week and I finally got a chance to see the ocean.  Santa Monica's Palisades Park is a favorite place for outdoor workout buffs during the morning and the evening and of course, later it's a lovely place to gaze out onto the Pacific and wonder what's churning beneath the surface of the sea. With or without that special someone.

I took a number of shots closer to the water, but this one was my favorite. I like its perspective and I like how solitary the scene feels, in that way you can feel totally alone in a roomful of people. When I first moved to Santa Monica, I came to this spot a lot. I'd sit on the bench with my notebook and write and write. Most of that stuff is still buried in my notebooks forever, but some of it ended up in my published work. Part of L.A.'s mystique, part of what makes L.A. , well L.A. is places like this, where the proximity of humans to the vast mystery and power of the elements is ignored at your peril. Like living on the edge of the world.

Indeed beyond that fence in the background is a very long, steep drop onto Pacific Coast Highway. The fence wasn't always so sturdy either -- you could easily get over it and people would climb down the California Incline to get a better vantage point of the view. Of course, you had to be real careful of your footing, unless you wanted to end up road kill for the sight-seeing tourists whizzing down PCH in their rental convertibles.

You can't do that stuff anymore but it doesn't mean the footing is any better. The next rainstorm might bring a mountainside of mud down on your house and nobody lives here without that back-of-the-brain fear of the Big One. Now that's the kind of thing that'll rock anyone's world view. Seriously. You gotta love this town.

Taken with my K100D with a polarizing filter and edited slightly in Photoshop.