East, 8:16 p.m., May 28. West, 8:18 p.m., May 28.
East, 8:16 p.m., May 28. West, 8:18 p.m., May 28.
People I used to work with will get a kick out of this: I dreamed I lost my voice in the newsroom. Mid-sentence. Looking down a row of desks at younger reporters and editors before my retirement, questioning without being asked a crowd-count methodology at a political event. Despite some darting of the eyes, they …
When the days end like this … and the dogs look like this … we start hopin’ for more of this … Notes on photos: Big brown dog with water bottle is Sara, Cowboy’s good friend, owned by neighbors Lori and Mike; sun setting behind Cabezon with plenty of wildfire smoke trapped down low; yours …
Rise and shine. Sore back delayed start, but grateful Cowboy is a herder and not a hunter. ⇓⇓⇓ Christine Baranski dilemma in “The Good Fight” got me thinking about retirement security, but I have no plans to move to south of France anyway. ⇓⇓⇓ Breakfast and lunch: New York hucksters on my plate. ⇓⇓⇓ Latest …
In newspapers and lawyers I trust.
Blue sunset, I called it, August 11. Actually, it’s turquoise. My favorite. I still miss Cooper mucho, but decided to check out a pup at the vet. Brought this guy home from the animal hospital Friday afternoon. He’s still getting used to things at dreamranch. It’s supposed to be foster care, but he’s a hoot. …
Monday, Aug. 8, 2016
I had no business trying to work inside on Saturday night anyway. My desk purposefully faces a blank wall, but the sunsets come through the windows. No, I ain’t complainin’.
I believe sunsets and dawns are indifferent. But this one was especially pretty. Primary election night, June 6, 2016.
In Henning Mankell’s novels about Swedish policeman Kurt Wallander, Wallander’s father is a painter who paints the same landscape every day. They think the father is suffering from dementia, but I wonder if there isn’t some clarity there, too. I seem to be stuck on Cabezon myself. Sharing photographs of the trusty old volcanic plug …
dreamranch 