I went a-wandering this afternoon, down to the Mt. Auburn Cemetery on Piedmont Avenue, down the street from my house. The stones aren't old by east-coast standards, or by Spanish-mission ones either, but there are names from all over the world. It's a lovely place to go, winding roads and sidewalks spiraling up little hills, strange names and stranger monuments, and big old redwoods and magnolias.
The other day, pumapreysize
and I found an old grandmother-willow tree there, leaning over a little pond they made, with rocks to sit on by the tiny waterfall running down the slope. This time I went aimless, walking upwards, up one steep little hill and around, over and up again, looking for the highest point, looking up at the brown hills behind the watered grass. I found a narrow tilting stairway of weathered concrete, all the way up, and at the top turned and looked out: there are the fall-trees, and Oakland stretching down to the port, the shipping-cranes like huge graceful grazing-animals at the edge of the bay. And beyond that, the city, the hills, the fog just beginning to curl around the base of San Francisco's alien radio tower
. The Bay Bridge on one side, and behind it, turning molten in the sunset, the Golden Gate.
This is a beautiful place.( a few other photos from the cemetery )
and, entirely unrelated to photojournalling, i've aquired a couple of new icons.
*summons crack team of stealth penguins!*