Back in the 1980s, the name Motorola really was a big deal, and everybody wanted one of these babies: Slick, compact and portable, it was amazing! Pull it out of your pocket, extend the plastic antenna, and walk around like a bigshot with your mobile phone at your ear. How cool were you?! It was 11.5 ounces (323 g) of […]
There’s a small creek that crosses Negro Bar, emptying into what is now Lake Natoma — and was once a portion of the American River. Nowadays the creek is mostly hidden amongst the trees and undergrowth, but it is visible in a few spots. One of these spots is a lot more difficult to find these days. Prior to construction of the new Natoma Crossing bridge, which opened in 2000, this spot consisted of a long wooden staircase leading down to what looked like a stone wall across the creek. The water flowed through the barrier, and there was a wooden handrail held in place by metal poles. It was one of my favorite spots at Negro Bar. Summer 1990: Sadly, this forgotten little bridge was mostly destroyed during the building of the Natoma Crossing. Parts of it still remain intact, but it’s no longer a bridge. If you look closely, you can still see fragments of what it used to be. Summer 1990:
When I first caught sight of this inscription, I was filled with curiosity and hope; but as I drew closer, I realized there were no answers for me here. Perhaps the key to every endeavor is to make sure you stay above the waterline.
On my morning walks I’m pretty much guaranteed to see people riding bicycles, or running, or even sometimes walking like me. But I especially enjoy spotting somebody out there doing their own thing — taking the time to stop and breathe and enjoy being outdoors. And I’m happy too that I’m finally (after all these many years) finally getting brave enough to take photographs of something besides just beautiful scenery.
In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: “Happy Place.” I often have a hard time dragging myself out of bed early in the morning, or pulling myself together enough to leave the house. But man, is it worth it! I can get lucky enough to watch the sun come up, walk through a neighborhood that’s not yet awake. And I get the dirt trails mostly to myself. There’s something so special about walking through a tunnel of old oak, pine, and redwood trees, or a maze of berry bushes and overgrown grapevines. The cool morning air, the twittering of birds, the honking of geese passing overhead, the occasional sight of a deer or two. It’s almost impossible for me to resist an unexplored trail, one that curves around a bend and leads off to who-knows-where. When I reach a fork in the road, my only question is, “Which one shall I explore first?” And if the path takes me over an old wooden bridge, that’s even better! Off I go… I’ll see you when I get back!
The cool weather that moved through here about a week ago? I love it. No, it didn’t do much to ease our current drought, but I always look forward to the change of seasons and the break from the summer sunshine and heat. Plus I’m crazy about the smell of fresh air the rain brings. It also reminded me of […]
In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: “Boundaries.” Apparently, there are some strict guidelines about which side of the lake you’re allowed to row on. And when you ignore those rules, especially when “you’re old enough to know better!” you’re going to get an earful from the coach.
I see signs like this most every day that I’m walking the American River bike trail: But clearly a lot of people keep managing to miss them.