Monthly Archives: October 2017

Autumn Walk

by in Photography, Tahoe | 13 Comments

“The ornament of a house is the friends who frequent it.”
                                                   ― Ralph Waldo Emerson

Visitors provide a good motivation to notice things.  Places that I’ll take for granted will suddenly come to mind as good locations to take a guest.  Yesterday afternoon, I thought it might be a good idea to take a visiting friend out to one of the local lakeside beaches that’s about a mile down the road.  And on the way over, she noticed that the fall foliage was really quite beautiful.

Actually, I’d noticed the foliage too, but mainly while running my usual 10-k route on the footpath along the road.  A couple of times, I’d even thought to myself that I should come back with a camera.  But familiarity tends to push such things aside.

This time, however, after about twenty-minutes at the beach, my friend asked if we could go for a walk.  And after about a two-mile round-trip journey, the result was sixty-eight photos.  So with a big “Thanks!” to my friend for providing the motivation, here are a few shots of a part of the town not covered by Google’s Street View.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Destination

by in Death, Fiction, Mom, Mystery | 1 Comment

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The door closed by itself, as they do on Japanese taxis. The driver started the meter and maneuvered a smooth arc out of the rail station’s vehicle loop. Consumed by the journey, a weary voice uttered the atoms of meaning for a destination.

A momentary concern that the driver’s silence implied misunderstanding surrendered to a sense that their trajectory through the pre-dawn shadows whispered of certainty.  The car and its contents disappeared into the darkness while a searching hand felt for the remembrance in a handbag, a final gift to rest within the peace of a careworn palm.

An overnight passage had allowed for too much sentiment and too little sleep. Like an immortal, wise and eternal goddess, she had been witness to a history her daughter could never understand. But her presence also connected that child to the magic of a future, to a world of dreams and possibilities.  And through the years, she had gifted upon her daughter her own immortality in memories, ties that would some day pass to another generation.

But then, the world grew suddenly smaller, more barren. The goddess had vanished, leaving a woman to take her place.

Awakened to an unfamiliar morning, they were stopped in front of a humble house built in a traditional style. Inquiring about the fare, a hand waived dismissively before pulling the lever that opened the door. The coolness of a new day flooded in from an old and unfamiliar neighborhood. And yet, it was home.

“Doumo arigatou gozaimashita!” she exclaimed in sudden understanding, and the taxi door swung closed behind her. Recognizing the little girl from the luminous expression captured in a handful of faded photos, the woman once again reached into the handbag for the sweet chocolate her mother had come to love as a child.

300 words.

Written in response to the JSW Prompt 10-23-2017.

Image: Tokyo taxi driver, Evan Blaser.