garrison beau scott

…back to this place, this time. A warm day, amazing setting, running water, solitude yet not alone. I find myself wanting to go back.

With the summer gone and the possibility of jumping in that water decreasing more and more each day, I guess allowing my mind to drift back is the only way I can. Sometimes life can offer so many rewards to being alive, that you become overwhelmed with options. I think it a blessing, definitely nothing close to a curse, but it can be hard knowing this place and this time exists, yet not for me, not now.

I have faith however, that the camera and that which I pursue behind it, will offer up yet more opportunity to explore, experience, and celebrate. It’s just that it won’t be done stripped down to bathing suit and enjoyed while stretched out over sun warmed rocks like this one. It’s a shame too, but winter comes soon and who knows what it brings.

Now, more than ever, I long to escape. To forget about drunk drivers, student loans, and the current regime. To allow as my only companion, the camera and a few dozen rolls of her best friends. To find a portal in this world into another.

Not for any great length of time, as there is way too much for me here that I could never do without, but for a moment at least. If only to forget about drunk drivers, student loans, and the current regime.

Back to my trip to California this past April/May. Most of my time riding the cruiser was during earlier hours when coffee was just as important of a quest as snaps. But this day I went out twice and this time, all that I cared about was the light. Magic hour light. Shadow stretching, blue deepening, golden, delicious, light.

But of course light is nothing much until it finds something to strike.

After two very long posts over the weekend, I’ll be brief. If I were assign lyrics to this picture, it’d be California Dreaming by the Mamas and the Papas.

Golden light, golden sand, blue sky, riding a bike and snapping pix. I know it’s not even close to winter yet, but when you know of California, summer just isn’t the same anywhere else.

To just kind of expand on yesterday’s theme of memory…

…when a little bit of time passes between you and whatever scene you wish to recall, the details get a little fuzzy, maybe some multiple exposure gets thrown in as well as a certain color shift.

That’s Holga, pure and simple. A scene that at one time existed, but when it’s recalled, it’s not always the way we remember it. The device allows for our interpretation to be projected onto the memory, or in this case, the scene.