On the day I drove up to Tibidabo, it was raining and foggy and cloudy and, generally, a great day for photography.
Even though I had a GPS, I passed it several times; the fog was so thick you couldn’t see more than a hundred feet.
Anyway, when I got here, I walked around, literally in the clouds. Tibidabo is a popular attraction on top of a mountain, but there were only a handful of people here; I think there were more employees than visitors.
I could see some of the attractions but not altogether. It was hard to get s sense of the place, I had to piece it together in my mind. I would walk up upon each attraction and have more of the puzzle. As I walked around, I felt like a ghost.
It made for a fun excursion, but it mirrored the oddity of the park itself. It felt like being in some strange dreamlike universe where things were not as they are in the waking world.
If the weather isn’t right, it usually means there could be some interesting photos, and that’s why I went. I’m glad I did; had I gone when it was sunny, it would have been a lot of people, and I think it would have been a much more mundane experience.
Depending on the time of day, the scene at this beach is entirely different. I’m not sure which one I prefer better.
Having spent almost a week here, I had plenty of opportunities to take in the view. I think perhaps that I like the early morning view for the stillness of the water. If I think about it much longer, I’ll probably change my mind.
The defining characteristic of Carnon Plage is the circularity of the shore. (BTW: Plage is the French word for beach.) Breakwaters were constructed to prevent erosion such that waves passing through form rings. The beach is therefore circular and, there is more of it than if it were merely straight. In the end, it makes for good picture taking, which for me, is all that seems to matter.
This picture feels a little like a gloomy Monday morning, even though I took it on a Friday.
I took this near our friend’s house at the beach in Carnon. I never tire of these minimalistic scenes because they leave much room for interpretation and reflection — however, calm thoughts were the last thing on my mind when I took this.
I was about to go for a swim and, the water was chilly. Getting in took two types of effort, one of the mind and one of the body. Neither my mind nor body was overly enthusiastic at the prospect. In the end, I completed the swim, which left the rest of the day to contemplate sweet nothing.
This tower is one of the first things you see in Barcelona. However, in my case, it took me by surprise.
It was raining, so I had it in my mind to drive up the mountain and visit the Sagrat Cor church. However, the clouds created a thick blanket of fog, and it was difficult to see more than a hundred feet. As I stood outside the church, the clouds began to thin, and the tower appeared rather dramatically.
Here is a close-up view that T took with the telephoto lens fully extended. The tenth level is the observation deck, according to Wikipedia.
Lately, we have been getting a lot of rain. When that happens, it usually means you can count one thing, a sky full of colors in the evening.
When I took this image, I didn’t realize children were in the picture until later. I was too busy making sure I didn’t drop the camera in the water. In any case, it was a lucky happenstance caused by the wide-angle of the lens.
All good things are fleeting and come to an end. But taking photos is a passion for me, partly because it saves a moment to re-experience later. Pictures like this are memory pills that cause neurons to fire, bringing back moments, and sometimes surprises.
I snapped a picture of some houses on Paradise Island. These are not just any houses, but I’m no name-dropper, so I’ll leave it at that.
It’s always fun to look at these fancy houses. But honestly, if I lived in one and tour boats motored by every day, it might lose some of its allure. Nevertheless, it’s not a problem I expect to have soon.
Paradise Island in Nassau is where The Atlantis resort is. Except for a few houses, it’s mostly resorts, timeshares, and a golf course. It’s a fun place to visit, and having a home here is just for that, to visit once in a while.
Everything that has ever happened is in the past; we only have the present.
Smarter people than I have put a lot of thought into this, the prevailing wisdom is that time is not real; it’s just something we made up to record or coordinate. I agree with this intellectually, but when I’m waiting, time seems genuine, if not slow.
Attention is like a sail. When focusing on something, we move through time quickly. Maybe that’s why time seems to move faster as we get older. The more our attention is focused, the more time seems faster. If now is all we really have, it stands to reason that awareness at the moment is more precious than we think.
I’d like to think other places are still wide open. Like maybe some of the western states, or the prairies. But in reality, every little inch of space from coast to coast is owned. Or at least we like to think so. But I am reminded that the land is much older than our relatively new claims upon it.
If I lived in a pasture, I’d spend most of the summer sitting under the shade of an oak, and that’s no bull.
I took this on a drive through the country here in Florida. Contrary to popular belief, most of the state is agriculture. All you have to do is drive from one coast to the other to see what I mean. The drive takes about two hours and passes through a lot of cattle country. It’s no wonder rodeos are big here.
Mulholland road in Parrish, oddly enough, dead-ends at a bridge. Because of that, it feels remote, even though it’s in the middle of a housing boom.
Living in suburbia as I do, the trick to doing local landscape photography is finding gems tucked away in plain sight. Even though I think I’ve found most, I’m pretty sure there are more. They are, by their very nature, not easy to find.
I took this photo about five years ago, and today, as I drove by, the road is under construction. That means it’s probably going to get more traffic and, extend past the bridge; meaning no longer hidden. But I’ll keep searching for more spots like this in the suburban jungle.