HDR Photography
This little town on the shores of the Salton Sea is only a few blocks in each direction, a sort of echo of what might have been in a different ecological timeline. My favorite detail of the image, though, are the other lights away on the far shore of the Sea, just beneath the mountains, suggesting another world still out there.
Unlike past summers, when drought left central Kentucky crispy, a rainy summer produced lush foliage around the bridge over the South Elkhorn Creek.
Narrow sticks emerge at regular intervals from the water, silhouetted in the reflected sunset, raising more questions than they can answer along the shoreline of the evaporating Salton Sea.
Bushnell Tower was originally intended to have a twin rising next to it. Though the cost of the first tower ultimately scuttled plants for the second, echoes of the goal remain in the design. It wouldn’t have done to have windows looking directly into one’s neighbors, so the side of the building originally designed to face its partner was constructed with very few windows. My personal stance is to enjoy the little bit of strangeness in a world that threatens to become a bit more smoothed-down and homogenous.
As I noted last week, the gradual evaporation of the Salton Sea has left Bombay Beach with more and more of its namesake. The outlines of the town show where the earthen sea wall was constructed to protect it from flooding that now seems less and less likely; the comparatively more green-hued beach shows the areas that were more recently submerged.
The lights of the Hartford Public Library in the foreground provide a safer, more orderly home for the eye than the highly abnormal weather feature expanding forth around Travelers Tower like some portal to an evil dimension.
The slow disappearance of the Salton Sea has moved dramatic art pieces, like this tetrahedron that once rose mysteriously from the water, onto a broad expanse of beach where some of their magic evaporates with the sea.
When I added the “Ω” to the title of this image, I imagined endings across multiple dimensions of time: Certainly, a sunset is the end of a day, but I was also thinking on the longer scale of how the slow march of evaporation and desert climate are continuously shrinking the Salton Sea. In a more personal sense, this was likely to be my last visit to the Sea—at least in anything like its current state. All of those combined finalities made this one worthy of being the omega.
I.M. Pei’s Bushnell Tower is a palette for late-spring sunsets and clear skies in downtown Hartford.
A mixture of wide-angle lens distortion and “impossible” aerial drone viewpoint make for brain-twisting images of already strange and transient phenomena, like the chairs and stage of Trinity College’s Commencement Ceremony arrayed on the quad.
Trinity sings of being “‘Neath the Elms” for our alma mater, but I haven’t been able to capture that experience at Commencement quite so literally prior to now.
A springtime stroll along Trinity’s Long Walk has more leaf-generated shade every day.
Final exam week is winding down, which means we can finally emerge from our Neo-Gothic cocoons and enjoy Trinity’s perfect spring campus.
After a 2025 spent with construction fencing and destroyed surfaces, Bushnell Park in downtown Hartford is back and better than ever.
Trinity is technically an arboretum and spring brings out the photosynthesis in some of my favorite trees—with, of course, some great chairs in which to sit and enjoy them.
Decaseconds 