The peaks of Mt. Tam barely glimpsed from the Corte Madera Creek path near the maze of ramps of US 101 at the Kentfield/San Anselmo & Richmond/San Rafael Bridge exit
This is the weekend the Bay Bridge is closed partially, so here in Marin we expected a lot of traffic – and we got it. The stacked concrete corridors of ramps around US 101 saw a stream of cars that is heavy for a Sunday, though not unbearably so.
I stayed put for the better part of the day. I wanted to keep off the roads, sure, but also, I had a lot of number-crunching to do – which might explain why at the last minute I chose this image of Mt. Tam barely visible over all the others I took as I walked along the Corte Madera Creek on the west side of US 101, from where the mountain looms large and beautiful from just about any angle.
Mt. Tam in the purple haze of sunset glimpsed from Bret Harte, San Rafael
Often, when I walk on Bret Harte Road around sunset and look across the gorge between the ridges of the undulating hills and happen to spot a house with the lights on I am reminded of fairy tales. Not that I feel lost, but there is a sense of other-worldliness in the space of twilight. Here the landscape rearranges itself. The mountain fades, first into a wash of pastels, then the slow tide of night swallows it whole. And the trees, seemingly so benign and gently green in the light of day, appear to fill out and grow as darkness comes to harvest whatever color still clings to the reflective leaves.
Mt. Tam concealed by palms along Sir Francis Drake Blvd at the intersection with Wolfe Grade, Kentfield
Were it not for the group of palms in front of my lens, the peaks of Mt. Tam would shine in the glorious sunshine in this frame…. But as it is, when I saw this image as I waited for the red light to change at the intersection of Sir Francis Drake and Wolfe Grade in Kentfield, I was reminded of the palm at the end of the mind, of which Wallace Stevens wrote:
Of Mere Being
The palm at the end of the mind,
Beyond the last thought, rises
In the bronze decor,
A gold-feathered bird
Sings in the palm, without human meaning,
Without human feeling, a foreign song.
You know then that is not the reason
That makes us happy or unhappy.
The bird sings. Its feathers shine.
The palm stands on the edge of space.
The wind moves slowly in the branches.
The bird’s fire-fangled feathers dangle down.
Mt. Tam glimpsed behind Dennis Patton's statue of the sleeping maiden at the Sir Francis Drake B;vd. entrance to the Bon Air Shopping Center in Greenbrae
Dennis Patton‘s giant sleeping maiden slumbers night and day out of reach even from the long shadow of her namesake. It’s a sleep that keeps many of us cozily marooned on little grass mounds, even as we dream of scaling those mountains that rise like so much blue smoke in the corner of our vision.
Mt. Tam glimpsed in morning light
After a night of high winds, everything was crystal clear this morning in the sun and the chilled blue dome of sky. Out the door I went early, moving from one thing to another. By the time I got back in the neighborhood the sun had set. I was without my camera for the day, so this photo from the morning that seems so far away, was the only one left for show today…
Mt. Tam, veiled in sun, Corte Madera Creek
The brilliant light of the setting sun obliterated the the peaks of Mt. Tam from the angle I tried to catch the turkey vulture that swooped lower and lower in front of it making arcs over the Corte Madera Creek. Just because I can’t see the ridge, it doesn’t meant it’s not there; in this case, I have more than faith for the foundation of my belief.
Mt. Tam covered with clouds - glimpsed from San Anselmo
The clouds clung to the peaks of Mt. Tam today, even as the skies opened to reveal expanding patches of blue. Then again, this bulk of constant little doom overhead is what happens to the vista when one insists on staying put on the north-side of the ridge.
Mt. Tam glimpsed from S. Eliseo Drive, Greenbrae
A sunny morning that clouded over, but I barely noticed it during the day I spent in the cheery company of friends. By the time I sat down here, night’s put the rain in charge of washing away all traces of light in the sky, but it could do nothing to blot the bright afterglow of so much good conversation and good food with such good friends.
Mt. Tam glimpsed from the field adjacent to the College of Marin track in Kentfield
This morning, my inner athlete, determined to go running, took me to the track at the College of Marin. After a few laps my inner athlete and I came to an understanding about the kinds of activities we could do together and we slowed down to a fast, but comfortable, walking pace. My inner athlete will have to keep running around the track in my imagination, and I’ll just heed my better judgement, which says: “walk, don’t run.”
Mt. Tam glimpsed in a river of clouds
At the end of the day what is it that you will remember? Ominous clouds, fluffy clouds, rain-soaked clouds? Rain, drizzle, mist? Wind, swift drops in temperature, islands of warmth under sudden sun? Patches of blue skies, sunny spots, the odd rainbow?
Or the steady and steadying kindness of friends, those expert meteorologists of the soul’s variable climate, who, at a moment’s notice, come to help you weather – what else? – the weather.