700 miles from the beach, I can still hear the waves, the gulls and the hungry seals crying from Seal Rock. The salt air mists my face as the waves crash against the rocks. It seems, for an instant, that time stops. The sun stays its descent, just above the horizon, lingering to set the clouds on fire. I can not count grains of sand, swirling at my feet beyond the frothy shore break. The rhythmic flow of mighty waters, spent and spending, captivate with hypnotic cadence. I can not be in two places at once. But in my dreams, my mind returns, while my body, unmercifully, remains. Awake, I hold a shell to my ear and my heart rejoices in the sounds of sea surrounding Seal Rock.
Waves crash against the rocks as the birds and seals watch the setting sun from Seal Rock, Crescent Cove, California.
There is something restorative about watching the sunset on a beach with warm winds blowing, surrounded by family and friends. We took a trip to Southern California this weekend to get out of the cold. We always find our way back to this beach–Crescent Cove. This is the beach where my wife grew up. This is the beach where I asked her to marry me. Fortunately, she said yes. I think the waves and wind were in my favor that day. Now, we bring our kids to this beach. We climb on the rocks and play in the sand–and, we watch the sunset. There is a peace we find here that calls to us when we wander.Yet, the winds blow us back and we shall return on a distant tide.
Home of the ancient Roman seaport, Ostia is a beautiful resort destination on the Tyrrhenian Sea and the mouth of the Tiber River.
Lido di Ostia, or Lido di Roma is a beautiful resort destination on the Tyrrhenian Sea and the mouth of the Tiber River. Ostia was the ancient seaport of Rome. Due to the buildup of silt and the passing of time, the actual Roman seaport is now several kilometers from the sea. But, the warm Mediterranean breezes still blow across a resort village community not far from the heart of both ancient and modern Italy. When I go back to Rome, and I will, I hope to spend more than an afternoon soaking up the sun, sand and warmth of this beautiful Italian community.
Just before sunset, Anne took a stroll on the beach, in Ostia, Italy, to feel the sand between her toes and the warm Mediterranean water on her feet.
It’s January, 2014. The high temperatures in Utah average in the high 20s to low 30s. It’s cold. There’s snow on the ground. The warm glow of Christmas faded as my son took our Christmas lights down. I’m grateful he was home from school to do it, because it was too cold outside for me. In trying to warm up, I wanted to revisit Rome, at least with pictures.
Anne flew to Rome to meet me on my birthday. We stopped at Ostia Beach after shooting an interview nearby. Ostia is the closest beach to Rome and is located on the Tyrrhenian Sea of the Mediterranean, not far from the city. The water was warm. The breezes were gentle. The sunset was magical. Anne was with me, and, it was Rome.
Italy.
I hope, if it is cold where you live, you can feel the warmth of the setting Italian sun and endure the cold, for a few more months.
I thought, since it is New Years Eve, I would post a photo gallery of shots from some of the places I’ve been around the world. Sort of a “Best of” gallery from previous posts. I’ve been only blogging since August, so I have yet to post shots from everywhere I’ve been. And, I have yet to even start posting video from all of these places. That is what 2014 is for. Resolution 🙂
The world is a big, beautiful place, filled with interesting people, amazing sights, random coincidences and occasional tender mercies. I have been blessed to travel. I have been blessed to make friends on every continent. I hope to keep the friends I have made and make more as time goes by. However, my greatest blessings are found at home, with a warm fire, a good meal and my family, who love me.
I hope you enjoy the photographs. Happy New Year.
Soweto Towers could be one of the coolest places in the world to bungee and base jump.
Corregated metal, cardboard, canvas and the ever-present barbed wire makeup the materials of most houses in the township.
Without education, children growing up in the township face limited opportunities.
The Village Elder gave us permission to take a picture, but, the women of the village, the mothers wouldn’t come out of their huts to be in the shot.
A child can find pure joy amidst the most challenging of circumstances.
The secret to such smooth, smooth skin could be found in the mud of Lubumbashi River.
Working with root fibers in Yamoransah village, Ghana.
When I tried to take her picture, she would hide her face and then laugh. When I showed her pictures of her friends, she opened up enough to let take this photo.
Jacaranda trees bloom in spectacular beauty on a residential street in Johannesburg, South Africa.
The legendary tree of life thrives in Africa.
A thirsty African elephant takes a healthy drink from his own personal well.
Leopard finishing a meal of Impala at the Mala Mala Game Reserve, South Africa.
One of the greatest achievements of Roman Engineering and Architecture, the Roman Colosseum is still the largest amphitheater in the world.
Kneeling in the attitude of penitent prayer, this woman remains still for hours, hoping her prayers will be answered with coins in her cup.
Late afternoon light illuminates a common staircase adjacent to the Scala Sancta (Holy Steps) said to be the steps Jesus stood upon before Pontius Pilate.
A vintage rainy day in Paris.
KIngs and Courtiers still bask in the lavish extravagance of the Château de Versailles.
Evergreen soldiers await the command to march on the Palace.
One of the islands on the Seine, near the birthplace of Paris.
A woman rests from her burdens.
Can you say Da Vinci Code?
The heart of the ancient Inca Empire
Scones and Smiles, she’ll warm your heart with both.
Shape, pattern, line and light emerge through a high-dynamic-range look into the meadow.
Early morning sun shines on Lone Peak, Wasatch Mountains, Utah.
Temple Square in Salt Lake City is the headquarters of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Construction of the Salt Lake Temple began in 1847 and took nearly 40 years to complete. The Temple, surrounded by thousands of twinkling Christmas lights, stands as a symbol of faith and hope to more than 15 million Latter-day Saints (Mormons) across the world.
The reflecting pool on Temple Square tells the story of Christmas in twinkling lights.
“I will honour Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year. I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future. The Spirits of all Three shall strive within me. I will not shut out the lessons that they teach!”
― Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol
This past year I have been in nearly 30 countries. I have stood on every continent (except Antarctica–maybe next year :). I have been away from home more than I like, more than I should. I have been running as fast as I can, working as hard as I am able. I have had some marvelous, even miraculous experiences. Yet, I would choose to stay home, surrounded by family and friends.
Surrounded by thousands of twinkling Christmas lights, the Salt Lake Temple stands as a symbol of faith and hope to more than 15 million Latter-day Saints (Mormons) across the world.
And so it was that our family gathered for Thanksgiving. It was a joyous experience to be with those whom I know love me. The day after Thanksgiving, we all went to Salt Lake City to see the Christmas Lights on Temple Square. As is typical when our family gathers, we were in a hurry. It was cold. We ran through Temple Square trying not to lose each other, trying not to knock anyone over, trying not to lose the Grandparents who wanted to keep up but who kept stopping to enjoy the sights. I barely had time to pull out my camera.
Red, a color of Christmas, lights for the Star of Bethlehem, stone for the Rock of Salvation.
After getting separated, and reconnecting (thanks to cell phones), we ended up at my son and daughter-in-laws apartment drinking egg nog and playing “Apples to Apples.” It was fun, and exhausting, in a good way.
When we returned home, I realized, again, that the joy of Christmas is in keeping it in our hearts and our homes. I do believe there is a gift, given freely by him, whom we celebrate, that lights our homes, our hearts and our minds, even in the darkest of times.
“And it was always said of him, that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and all of us! And so, as Tiny Tim observed, God bless Us, Every One!”
― Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol
Soaring above Temple Square, a star shaped display points across time to the Babe of Bethlehem, born in a manger.
Having recently visited South Africa, I was reflecting on my experiences there in light of Nelson Mandela’s passing. A courageous, inspiring leader, he had an influence on a people, a country and a world. As I met the people, talked with them, broke bread with them, photographed them, Nelson Mandela had an influence on me. I came to admire his commitment to moral principles which elevate the human condition. I found, in Johannesburg, a complex and complicated city with contrasts not entirely in keeping with Nelson Mandela’s vision for how things ought to be. In other parts of the country these contrasts were even more apparent. Things are not how they should be. Yet, I also saw hope, commitment, energy and progress. I’m sure Nelson Mandela didn’t accomplish all he hoped to accomplish in his long and influential life. Yet, his vision took root. His commitment and perseverance inspired others. Nelson Mandela made a difference. South Africa made a significant impression on me well beyond the images I took.
Completed in 2003 at a price of 38 million rand, the Nelson Mandela Bridge was conceived as a means of bridging two disparate parts of Johannesburg in the hopes of revitalizing the inner city.
Jacaranda trees bloom in spectacular beauty on a residential street in Johannesburg, South Africa.
Johannesburg, South Africa is a colorful and diverse city. We stopped for a moment to capture the sunset over this neighborhood.
Powerlines traverse the horizon as a Soweto resident walks home along the dirt path leading to the Township.
Life in the township has improved, but can still be difficult. Growing crops provides an income supplement and food for a family.
Bungee jumpers and base jumpers get their adrenalin rush by leaping from the platform bridge between the Two Towers.
Johannesburg is a beautiful city. From a distance and height, the views are stunning.
Afternoon and evening storms, sometimes violent, roll in over Johannesburg, relieving the city of heat and humidity.
Johannesburg downtown business district is clean, modern and growing.
With seating for 37,500, Johannesburg stadium is home to the Orlando Pirates Football Club and the Golden Lions Rugby Union.
Johannesburg has a modern well developed infrastructure.
Alexandra Township, or Alex, is part of Johannesburg, South Africa, and is one of the poorest urban areas in the country.
As this woman crossed the bridge, I asked if I could take her picture. When I showed her the picture, she laughed and laughed. She couldn’t understand why I wanted her picture.
While economic opportunities abound in Johannesburg, the unemployment rate among blacks is astronomically high, somewhere near 32%.
They seemed like bars, the wooden frames. To keep me out or hold him in, I did not know which was more damning.
Ever present and visible on nearly every home, regardless of class, barbed wire speaks to the underlying crime and lack of security every resident of Joburg faces.
In Alex, unemployment, drugs, gangs and violence are part of the landscape of daily life. Barbed wire is one small means of protecting the children.
Water is a scarce commodity in many parts of the world. Clean water is even more precious. In Alex, dirty water is plentiful.
This building was abandoned. Now squatters take up residence as the building slowly decays.
Storm brewing over the Valley of 1,000 Hills.
The legendary tree of life thrives in Africa.
A thirsty African elephant takes a healthy drink from his own personal well.
Friendly rhinoceros grazing on the Mala Mala Game Reserve.
Leopard finishing a meal of Impala at the Mala Mala Game Reserve, South Africa.
If you’ve listened to selected shorts on PRI for awhile (http://www.wnyc.org/shows/shorts/), you’ve heard Roger Kellaway’s, “Come to the Meadow.” The music is lyrical, whimsical and evocative. I can see wildflowers and feel the wind in his composition. The music, for me, paints a spring song in the meadow, evergreen and blooming. Yet, when I found myself in The Meadows on a cold November morning, I was captivated by the patterns, shapes and lines of summer grasses, now glowing golden in the glorious morning light. Come to the meadow with me, on a glorious autumn morning. Bring Roger Kellaway, if you can. There are more seasons in the meadow than you might expect.
On the banks of a mountain stream, meadow grasses glow in the golden light of early morning.
Meadow grasses dip to drink from the mountain stream.
A small stream snakes through the golden meadow.
Shape, pattern, line and light emerge through a high-dynamic-range look into the meadow.
Bowing before the inevitability of winter, crested wheat grass form a congregation of followers praying for new life.
The Meadows glow in autumn’s golden morning light.
Waiting for wind, meadow weeds cling to seeds that will carry life to new meadows and pastures.
In the meadow, autumn wind and snow have not yet buried the seeds of spring growth.
Laden with the remnants of summer growth, autumn’s remnants glow with future promise.
Near the end of fall, the meadow grass, Common Teasel, is not so common.
Fall portends sleep and death, yet, in the meadow, among the teasel, there is hope for renewal.
Paradise is not so far away from meadow teasel in late autumn.
Crested wheat grass form patterns of light among a variety of meadow grasses.
Golden lights illuminates shapes and patterns in the meadow.
Crested wheat grass mixes with other meadow grasses.
On the banks of a meadow stream, fall leaves cover smooth stones.
Evergreen endures while deciduous trees prepare for winter.
Fall leaves cover the ground before winter snow buries the leaves.
7:45 am, 28 degrees, Thanksgiving morning, 5K run. I was the designated photographer as three of my children dragged me out of bed to take pictures of them running. Annual tradition. Most all of my family converged on our home for Thanksgiving. With so many people staying in our home, there hasn’t been much sleeping going on. I stayed up way too late. I was tired. I was cold. Then, the sun came up. The light hit the mountain tops and I thought about all the places I have been in the world this year, how many frequent flyer miles I have accrued, how many Marriott points I have, and, I was glad. Glad to be home. Home where the cold November mornings chill my breath. Home where the sun shines more often than not and the summer sun shines late and long. Home where my pillow fits my head and my bed has an indentation just my size. Home where my children come for Sunday dinners. Home where the sun rises over the Wasatch mountains to the east and Lone Peak Mountain lies north. Home, where I’m never lost and always loved. For these things and more I give thanks.
Early morning sun shines on Lone Peak, Wasatch Mountains, Utah.
They're Calling To Me 