Sally’s Blog
Around the Table
Thinking of my recent trip to Cape Cod, I notice that some of the most interesting things which happened, I didn’t plan on. For instance a three -course “menu” of happenings at restaurants, starting with yet another round of oysters on the half shell ordered by my...
Time In Water
Recently dear friends invited Andy and me to a pool party, with the special purpose of our grandson meeting their two grandchildren; all three eleven or twelve years old. Though I’d worried how the arranged introduction would work, the kids clicked right away and we...
Blooming
Here’s a neighborhood landmark, located on the corner of the street above mine. For a long time, no one’s paid it much heed; the sign’s been “just part of the landscape.” Until just the other day. I drove by, glanced to the right—and saw that the sign stood alone....
Reflecting on a Leaf
My image Reflecting on a Leaf, now on exhibit at the International Exposition of Photography at the San Diego County Fair. I’ve been working at images involving the effect known as surface tension, starting a year ago on Cape Cod where a first “catch” photograph...
The Scenic Pine
One of the farthest points of my neighborhood is a hard sandy strip of open land which I call “the lookout.” From there, I see the Pacific and La Jolla Cove to the west; to the east lies an expanse of settled land, then the distant Cuyamaca Mountains. And at the...
A Walker in the Hood
Out the door, down the driveway slope I go, and turning right, stride forward down the street. I look from side to side until I reach the T intersection at the corner. Here’s the decision point: turn left, downhill? Or go right, up the hill to points west including my...
Impact
The Pinot Noir aisle in BevMo. I was slowly working my way shelf to shelf, section to section, frowning and muttering. Bottle after bottle of wine, label after label, description after description. A clerk, a burly fellow, asked. “Anything I can help you with, ma’am?”...
Brownies
Be my Valentine? Here’s a good recipe for you—but first its story. Both are close to my heart. It was 1967, first semester of my senior year at the New England Conservatory of Music in Boston; in the spring I would give my senior recital, the culmination of four...