211/365

things seen today:

old school pool umbrellas
a three hundred year-old live oak
a giant wooden milk carton in the middle of a field
wildflowers run riot along the side of the highway
two billboards for machine gun america
an elegant live oak heavy with spanish moss next door to a gas station
a billboard boasting 'live baby gators and florida tee-shirts'
a billboard boasting a country radio station that plays 'no rap and no crap' 
(in comic sans font no less, as if that no rap/no crap bit wasn't laughable and/or offensive enough)
a cloud clearly shaped like the letter L
a colossal confederate flag, large enough to cover a parking lot
(what I wouldn't give to burn it)
an endless, hopeful expanse of water the color of slate
a dozen gleaming airstream trailers
a slew of pink-tipped clouds
the bottom end of a double rainbow
bubbles in the car

america is nothing if not an endless, maddening contradiction.

210/365

things seen today:

a giant smiling peanut
the inside of an old greyhound bus
lemon meringue pie like a cloud
a mammoth yellow moth at the gas station
a pick-up truck graveyard
burning bales of hay
magic pasaquan color and pattern
hand-painted produce signs
roadside swamps and white egrets
joseph and the technicolor pool noodles
an entire field of sunflowers, all turned toward the sun
railroad ties stacked like lincoln logs
a thrift store called THANK GOD
bubbles in the motel room

209/365

things seen today:

sidewalks littered with pink petals
a man in a dark suit and charcoal fedora feeding birds at the bus stop
victorian homes like complicated, sugary cakes
a taco bell marquee that read 'nacho fries missed you' 
a man cutting another man's hair on the bridge at sunset
a neon pink sky, serrated

205/365

the walk we take every time we visit savannah-- people, places, things-- the exact route, we are nothing if not predictable:

we start at foxy loxy, always
we order coffee and churro muffins, always
and sometimes also tacos and chipotle pimiento cheese and bottles of mexican coke
we sit upstairs, out on the porch, or in the courtyard in back, we discuss the day at hand
we walk north on bull street for several blocks, stopping whenever we feel like it
sometimes this means a stop at the sacred heart church, sometimes not
we walk until bull street dead ends into forsyth park
we marvel over the long tree-lined corridor ahead
we marvel over live oaks, hectic with spanish moss
inevitably, comparisons are made between the moss and ward's beard
inevitably, photographs are taken of said comparison
we continue on towards the fountain, we can't see it yet but we know it's there
we pass by a confederate statue, we do not like it, we talk loudly about how we do not like it, we consider vandalism
once we pass the statue, we look for forsyth fountain in the distance
we walk past the big playground chimes on the left, we always stop to play them
we make a beeline for the swings, also on the left, we always stop for the swings
we swing for a little while, I mean, we have the whole day ahead of us
we wander over to the garden of fragrance which is indeed fragrant
we continue on towards the fountain, which is in full view now and makes us all feel very european
we reach the fountain and do all the fountain things-- toss pennies in, close eyes, make wishes, feel fountain mist on our skin
we find benches in which to sit and watch the people 
we wander deeper into the park on paths that veer to the right, towards drayton street
we cross drayton to stand beneath the mammoth 300 year-old candler oak 
we make our way back through the park to the fountain, then back on the path towards bull street
we leave the park, cross over gaston street and continue on bull
we stop at alex raskin antiques, which is really more like a museum than anything
we walk past the mercer williams house, through monterey square, back onto bull
meanwhile, we pass stairways that feel otherworldly, like this one and this one and this one 
we cross jones street, contemplate a turn right or left here, as the houses that line it are so pretty it hurts
we think about stopping at the gryphon for tea and pimiento sandwiches, we think about it but we never do it
we stop in at the SCAD shop and pretend we might buy art
we cut through madison square over to e. shaver books
we look in the side window for the cat that lives there
we type out cryptic messages on the old typewriter provided and leave them behind
we dream of buying a stack of books but leave with maybe one or two
we continue on bull street towards liberty
we look for the book lady shop's small cherry red awning and make a beeline for it
we step down into the shop, which feels like a little world tucked beneath another more obvious world
we squeeze through narrow nooks and aisles stacked neatly, if not a bit precariously, with used books
we find a spot on the cracked brown leather sofa, look through books piled in a suitcase that always seems to be there
we want to buy all the old books here too, always, but never leave with more than one or two
we continue on bull, walk through chippewa square, also known as the place forrest gump sat while he waited for that bus
we find a bench of our own, where we can sit and rest and watch the people
we look to the right of the square for the old savannah theatre
we continue on bull, make a right on york and head towards a tiny gem of a place called zunzi's 
we order the best sandwich in the world, the conquistador
we eat this extraordinary sandwich on a patio underneath rainbow umbrellas
we head back towards bull, through wright square over to wright street antiques
we spend a little time here, at this wright street antiques place
we sift through record albums and old photographs, we hope for a little something to bring home
we head on towards broughton street, where we also spend a little time
we visit the paris market for various curiosities and pretend we are going to buy all the things
then my people hit the comic book shop while I wander back alleys
we contemplate ice cream at leopald's, home of the original tutti frutti, but the line is always stupid
instead, we continue on bull, past the old lucas theatre, through johnson square, towards the riverfront
while on river street, we consider the free ferry ride across the river, but we never do it, I don't know why
we sit there for a little while, we wave at boats, feel like tourists
inevitably, we visit the candy shop, spend a stupid amount of money on paltry bags of saltwater taffy and slivers of fudge
we eat said overpriced candy immediately, as we desperately need the sugar high for the long trek back to the car
we begin to snake our way back, which nows feels like a hundred million miles away
we begin to have some regrets
we wander through colonial park cemetery along the way, which is really only slightly off the beaten path 
we're practically delirious now with exhaustion, sugar high wearing off, not thinking clearly
but the light is usually golden by the time we reach it, shadows long, perfect for cemetery wandering
we consider the history, which is a wild one, we discuss it in hushed tones
we look for signs of ghosts, vow to come back after dark
we meander back towards the forsyth park fountain, which, at this point, feels like a mother scratching beacon of hope
we take a little break at the dueling oaks
we are tired, but we soldier on
we are tired, but also, happy

savannah

savannah, georgia back in april and additionally, here are the lists I made during my time there: 

124/365 (portraits I wanted to make)
125/365 (things found)
126/365 (things we stopped for)

151/365

today:

a short road trip

a little adventure

a major work project

I feel alive.

126/365

things we stopped the car for today:

boiled peanuts
a road lined with live oak trees
a hand painted PEACHES sign 
googie architecture
a coke from mcdonalds
a favorite book store
pimento cheese
coffee
coffee
coffee

125/365

things found today:

a jellyfish, beached
unusual calling cards
a pen shell, nearly completely intact
a hidden spiral staircase
the village lip lickers lip balm from my childhood
a coppery colored olive
small pieces of driftwood
an old photograph of five women standing at the stern of a boat
a teeny tiny eastern auger
soft air

19/365

items considered for purchase tonight at the buford highway farmers market:

a bagful of rambutans
a bagful of tangerines
matcha green tea kit kats
chocolate banana cream pocky
an abnormally large bag of masa harina
an abnormally large jar of nutella
japanese soda in pretty bottles
japanese soda you have to manually add fizz to
properly aged parmesan
a case of topo chico

summer twenty seventeen (three)

favorite summer photographs, part three, fini. part one here, part two here and now, in retrospect, I am certain I underestimated summer twenty seventeen.

summer twenty seventeen (two)

favorite summer photographs, part two. part one here, part three on deck.

it's entirely possible I underestimated summer twenty seventeen.