Tuesday, May 26, 2009


So...round about 10 a.m. this morning, we were at Bridal Falls, Yosemite - completely magnificent sheets of water falling from the sky, creating such thick veils of mist and spray over the rocks that it's hard to take any convincing photographs of them at all.   And the problem with all photographs in Yosemite is that they look like pale imitations of Ansel Adams, Muybridge, and all other forebears.   But I was hoping that there might be symbolic resonances, at least, in taking pictures of new, optimistic, spring like leaves against the Falls.

However, in uncharacteristically Job-like manner, I was also casting around for gloomy images of schisms, rifts, divisions (we did, for that matter, see a huge rock fall an hour later, but that was too sublime in and of itself to carry such depressing weight).   If, I thought, the California Supreme Court was wise and fair, I'd use an upbeat Falls image with which to open this post (although the sun wasn't in quite the right position for stunning rainbows).   If not...

So it was a Not.   So it's the riven rock that wins out.   It's actually by far the more interesting and less stock-touristy picture, too, which offers some perverse consolation - though, in the global scheme of things, not much.

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