90. Project 365

I posted this a while back on FB, but I'll post it here too, for posterity. Here's what I wrote on FB:

Almost 18 years ago, I completed my first photo-a-day project (Project 365), which I posted daily on Flickr. Back in December, I started my fifth such project—after a gap of 13 years. Here it is so far, 88 days in. It's simple enough: take a photo every day, and post it, with a bit of explanation of why or what. I find it a fascinating (I guess I'm easily fascinated!) record of the mostly tiny moments that make up my days, my life.

Since then, a couple of weeks have passed. And yes, more pictures! 

I'm up to day 107 now—almost a third of the way along. Some days I completely forget to take a picture—days when I'm busy at home, with a work project usually (currently: editing a book about an early woman lawyer)—and then have to find something, anything, in my immediate surroundings to document (a cat, for example; cats are easy targets). 

It's strange and lovely to go back, even all the way back to 2008 and the first Project 365, and remember that very moment, where I was, what I was struck by to take that shot. I do sometimes wish I were better at embracing moments without the aid of a photograph. But I'm also glad I have all these photos to remind me of the wealth of my experience.

Here are the photos I've taken the last seven days, complete with their Flickr captions:

Trail closed. But that doesn’t stop us,
outlaws that we are. Or judging from the
well-defined groove in the grass, others either.

Morning light on shells. This sight made me happy
this morning as I started one of two poetry
Zooms for today. Sometimes it’s the little things…

New books. I'm not much into shopping (just take a look
at my closet)—except when it comes to books. The subtlest
recommendation, and I'm off to the internet putting in an order.
These books arrived yesterday and today. The one on the bottom
was a freebie (two copies, actually): a gorgeous book about
the photographer Edward Steichen and his delphiniums, which
I was fortunate enough to proofread for the Eastman Museum
in Rochester, NY, for an upcoming exhibition. The next one up
is a book of poetry, by a poet I admire. The one above is
Stefan Zweig (1881–1942), writing about the vanishing of his
world—recommended by a guest on Ezra Klein's podcast, for its
present-day pertinence. I certainly do feel like the world I've
always relied on has vanished. Americanah is a novel my SIL
said she loved. And I'm not exactly sure where I heard about
One Day, Everyone Will Have Always Been Against This (it's about
Gaza), but it sounded important. Winner of prizes, but the very title
is so provocative. So yeah: I do shop. Bur pretty much only for books.
And groceries. Gotta eat.

Oh Canada. This guy was very calm—though he never
took that eye off me as I made my way past on my afternoon walk.

Morro Bay. Spent the day visiting friends in Morro Bay and Cambria.
I always enjoy spending time in this corner of the California coast.
It feels quieter and more secluded than our own corner.
We started our visit with a walk at Cloisters Beach. 

Pinnacles High Peaks. Three of us went for an 8.5-mile hike
today at Pinnacles National Park. The forecast was for
90-degree heat in the afternoon, so we got going from our house
at 6:30, arriving at 7:30. It was delightfully cool as we set out,
and although it did grow gradually warmer during the course
of the morning (we finished up around 12:30), we were perfectly
comfortable. We saw many wildflowers, some chipmunks and squirrels,
many turkey vultures (though the condors remained tucked away
waiting for afternoon thermals), and the best: a foot-long southwestern
pond turtle in a small stream; a beautifully patterned frog, in the same
stream; and a western rattlesnake stretched across the trail. Several women
were taking a big detour (into the stream) to avoid it, but we figured,
what? it's not coiled, it's just enjoying the sun—no problem.
So we marched right past it, and sure enough, although it flicked its tongue
at us (tasting us), it didn't seem to care one whit. I bet that sun on its
long body felt sooooooo good! 

Great egret. A frog pond visitor. From the
sound of the frogs singing in the evenings, s/he
is probably finding plenty to snack on.