"Recreation Yard door, Alcatraz," September 2005

Recreation Yard door, Alcatraz

On one side of the door you had the rec yard with its high concrete walls, the ballfield and the open sky above. The brisk San Francisco Bay wind brought the scent of the salt air high above their heads, a promise of what lay beyond.

On the other side of the door in the wall, a view. The Golden Gate Bridge in the distance, straight ahead. The city of San Francisco to the left, Sausalito, Berkeley and Oakland around to the right. The cool, blue, churning waters down the steps and the rocks below. Tempting, for sure.

"Village view," New York, October 2007

Lunch in the Village

When I took this shot, I did so because of the crystal-clear afternoon, the strong light on the buildings and tree, the blue sky, the illumination of the window and the colors coming through the transparent lettering in the name. The post in the center of the frame was an imperfection I'd have to live with. I didn't look at this photo as anything outstanding; it was just a moment of an afternoon.

And then I noticed the jagged top of the photo, the roof of the corner entry to the restaurant, and the M.C. Escher-like effect it has on the scene, particularly the building on the left, and I love it a little more.

"Double portrait," October 2007

Double portrait

Even after I'd moved out of my parents house, whenever I returned, I tended to look into the windows of the room closest to the driveway as I walked across the patio to the kitchen door. I was looking to see if the cat, Oreo, was surveying the landscape. If I was stopping by when no one else was home, I'd search him out as soon as I got inside. Even after he was gone, for months I still found myself looking in the windows on my way to the door or waiting for him to come trotting up when I was inside. It took quite some time to shake that feeling of his presence in the house.

Now, finally, my wife and I have reason again to sense another presence around the house, even if one of us isn't home at the time. Lenny and Harry have made themselves at home, and though we lived there for four months -- and together for five years -- without the two cats, I've found that after just two months with them that I can't imagine the house (and life) without them now.

Lenny, five months old when we got him, is an affectionate, playful tiny ball of terror. He'll be fast asleep at any hour of the day or night -- and I often come home in the wee small hours -- yet as soon as he hears a door, he's up and investigating in little more than a minute. And you can't sit on the couch for too long before he's in your lap.

Harry, at three years old a wise and more stoic cat, certainly marches to his own beat, but he'll put his 14 pounds of heft onto your lap when the mood strikes him. He'll also throw his weight around to open most doors in the house that aren't latched or otherwise securely closed. And should Lenny start antagonizing him and wrestling, Harry simply pins the little guy to show him who's boss.

"Final miles," New York, November 2006

NYC Marathon series, Central Park

The New York City Marathon is coming up again on Sunday, so what better image to depict strength? (OK, one that has the principal subjects in focus.) But even with that minor flaw, I like the contrast in this shot -- the two runners on the left, relaxed, chatting; the one on the right pushing, straining through the final miles through Central Park, the finish line only a few minutes away.