As the sun rises over the bay, I am alone with a boat and a boyish longing for adventure.

“I see people, but they look like trees, walking.”

Nothing can stop me on a walk quite like a quirky bench.

The sun is setting behind the cottages across this narrow lake.

Warned by the bright orange cone, I look down at the jutting sidewalk and think, “There’s humor here.”

The old woman in the hotel breakfast area is holding court.

The speaker I am about to scribe has a message for me from Steve Jobs.

These weeds are like some kind of alien invasion.

Leaning in, holding my breath, I raise my camera toward the coiled rattlesnake.

The floating lure hits the water with a plop, sending ripples out in neat concentric circles.

The more basic a thing is, the easier it is to take for granted.

The fields are overjoyed this morning.