Saw this photo in the NYT this morning. Made my stomach lurch. The height of that wave is approximately 100 ft. And yes, that is a surfer, one Garrett McNamara, in the middle. The wave is off Nazaré, on the central coast of Portugal. Who knew? Photo by Tó Mané via Reuters.
Would you accept the charges? Seen on a traffic light pole in Narrowsburg, NY.
After the trees shed their leaves, and before the snow falls, I find the landscape offers up a kind of dolefulness. The one-sided bed is a picture my brother-in-law took of a bedroom in their soon-to-be new home. And the striking (but sad) photo of the starling is from Matt.
I like stacks of stuff. No matter what or where.
Two completely unrelated photographs of exteriors. Except, of course, for the lovely script.
ca. 1888. A handwritten note on the back of the photo says, “Aunt Velma, she never married.” Everything about this image taps into my fear of female pattern baldness. Courtesy of my friend Kay who delights in all things odd. She found the image here. As an aside, when I was in grade school and high school we used to compete against Bucksport, Maine in certain sporting events. And, while I know this is a generalization, I remember those girls as not always being so nice. That said, I bet Aunt Velma is a peach.
Wow, I stopped dead in my tracks when I rounded the corner at 2nd Avenue and 72nd Street. Construction on the 2nd Avenue Subway is going full bore, and these ducts overwhelm anything and everything else around. They are huge and imposing and just a wee bit scary. The “blasting” sign showing a stick of exploding dynamite helped with the fright factor. I am fascinated by pipes and ducts and wires and any visible indication of our underlying infrastructure. Note to self: bring real camera because the iPhone can only do so much.