HDR Photography
This expanse of dramatic clouds, Petrin Hill, and the Vltava River was across the street from our hotel in Prague. While always a gorgeous view, most evenings brought rain instead of this kind of skyscape. I was lucky to find this scene on the final night of the trip.
Though St. Lawrence’s students are arriving to campus in a safety-mandated trickle over the next few weeks instead of a single-day flood, there’s still a sense of the snow-blanketed halls coming back to life. I love the energy of a college campus in full swing.
While Prague Castle’s position on a hilltop is apparent from the south side, the opposite side of the fortress is equally isolated from its surroundings by a steep and wooded hillside.
Much like Manhattan’s Central Park, Prague’s Petřín is (in part) a demonstration of the will and effort required on the part of a city to maintain green spaces. Once they become part of the city’s identity (as in those aforementioned cases), they exist in a space orthogonal to modern real estate development.
At the dawn of aviation, flight was magical. Then, it became routine. Now, after months in lockdown, a view above the clouds once again feels pretty special.
Late spring brings some of the best sunset clouds to Saranac Lake, but the evening temperatures would never let you confuse it for summer.
Spring Break officially ended at St. Lawrence University today, but the students haven’t returned to campus. We’ve started remote learning. The structures of campus look the same but feel different when they’re mostly empty.
When foot upon foot of snow stacks up outside, looking back to pictures from springtime on St. Lawrence’s campus helps to remind me that this condition is not permanent.
As frozen rain bounces off the roadways of northern New York, I’m reminded that our town works truly do battle with the elements each winter. Floating high over their facilities when spring finally arrives, I feel like I’m looking over the encampment of a victorious army.
Days are shortening and skies are hardening and winter is coming.
Two of my past St. Lawrence University students are working on their Ph.D.s at Berkeley and I discovered yesterday that one was giving her Graduate Research Conference (Berkeley’s version of a thesis defense, but earlier) while the other was in the audience. I’m very proud of both of them.
Understandably, this had me thinking about my experiences at Berkeley. In this picture from Grizzly Peak, the perspective folds together Oakland, San Francisco, and Berkeley. In the foreground, look at those gnarled trees—they’re weird but they’ve grown tall. I’ll take that visual metaphor for the grad school experience. I took this picture on Christmas Day in 2016, so I guess that makes these Christmas trees, too.
Each Sunday morning during my 2017 sabbatical, I would start a load of wash in the apartment building’s single shared washing machine and head to Philz Coffee on Shattuck (don’t look for it—it’s not there anymore). I’d stand on this sunny corner in the perfect weather with an enormous coffee and watch the world for a minute… Before heading back to change over the laundry.
November afternoons end quickly—close to the winter solstice, the sun disappears while the day is still “young”. Notre Dame’s pre-fire spire looks so calm next to the pastel clouds.
Threatening storm clouds gathered over campus on the eve of Commencement this year, forcing the event inside… Only for the weather to be sunny and mild the next day. Even access to flying robots can’t fix the chaos of weather prediction.
Late spring on college campuses around the country presents perhaps the loveliest views to the fewest people—students have graduated and perhaps a few reunioners are the only audience.
Decaseconds 