Sally’s Blog
Ripe
“What’s your favorite fruit?” Without needing to think, I answer, “Peaches. “ But peaches are a sometime thing. Some years good, others frustrating. So when they are good, I rejoice all over again. Sometimes peaches ripen almost before I’m ready. Then I make my...
Seeing Water
After years of admiring others' images, this year I submitted my work to the Exhibition of Photography at the San Diego County Fair in Del Mar. I was pleased indeed to have three images accepted (now on display until July 4) at the largest photographic exhibition on...
A Symphony of Spring
In my neighborhood, I walk in the sensory experience known as spring, and am presented with a visual and aural symphony. This time of year is especially a veritable feast of things to observe, delight in, and photograph. This year, I’ve walked with a companion, for...
Taking a Ride
The image above is the work of Mitko Pavlov, a street photographer in Bulgaria. Found on Google, it was offered as a writing prompt by my friend Sharon Reynolds. Sharon and I belong to a writing critique group, a whimsical, perceptive bunch of four women who have...
Affogato
So what’s on the dessert menu? Cheesecake, chocolate mousse cake. . . well, I can have those any time . . . Affogato? What’s that? It says “vanilla ice cream and espresso” . . . Hmmn, that’s a simple combination. Sounds good, why don’t I try it? Aberystwyth, a...
Nauset Haven
Last fall, I revisited Nauset Haven, the cottage colony in Eastham which my family owned and operated during my teen years (1957-64). The place where I knew and learned Cape Cod, before I ever knew about Craigville or met my future husband or the Buffingtons. That...
A Gallery For the New Year
The image above was taken at in Encinitas, a town about ten miles north of us, a major garden center. Though I’m no gardener myself, prowling its nurseries and San Diego Botanic Garden are ongoing joys, and this one is from a nursery specializing in koi and...
The Never-Christmas Cottage
As a child, I used to read this verse on the cover of the family photo album. Now I would add a line: “old places”—and one old place in particular, our Craigville cottage of which I wrote in A Place Like This. Yet we never celebrated Christmas there. All...