Between the giant anthill known as Los Angeles and the slightly smaller anthill known as the Bay Area lies a lesser known area of California. Some residents call it the Middle Kingdom. And like all good kingdoms, this kingdom has a castle. This is not a dark foreboding castle but one of art and sensuality. This is a castle of colorful gardens, set on a hill above a shining sea and populated by the most beautiful people of its day.  Like many kingdoms, this castle fell from favor as its aging monarch fell into old age. But fortunately, the greater Kingdom of California now manages this place and attempts to keep at least the appearance of its former glory days.

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We visited the Middle Kingdom recently and made the journey to the Castle. And though we are not fans of conspicuous consumption, we are (or at least try to be) appreciative of art and craft. Take this cottage for instance, how can you not find it at least attractive. Maybe not your style or ours, but attractive.

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And those gardens filled with art and flowers, imagine a warm spring afternoon wandering through the gardens with a beverage from the cellar in hand.

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And as for sensuous, have you seen this pool? Can you imagine it in the light of a full moon? Think you could get lucky here?

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But like many royal projects someone should have told the King to stop, or at least "Mellow out , dude" (Hey it is the Middle Kingdom - people talk that way there). Can you imagine waking up after a long night of liberating libations to this ceiling above your bed?

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But the ornate is not found in just one or two rooms but in every room. And outside, marble statues are insufficient, there must be gold statues as well.

Eventually, as we wandered the grounds and took the tours, the opulent and ornate ostentatious display of wealth became over-bearing. We left the Castle to return to what we think are the true treasures of the Middle Kingdom.... expansive landscapes and the shimmering sea.

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Last week we were out on the McCloud River taking pictures. This week we were helping the local environmental education foundation (Spring Rivers) with the Foundation's field trips for local school kids. The two don't seem that related. But sometimes things have a way of coming together.

As part of the field trip we had a station where we helped the kids experience trees. During the lesson they "adopt" a tree. Near the end of one group we had an exchange that went something like this:

Kid: I know what the name of my tree is.

Adult: Really? What's your tree's name?

Kid: Puppy.

Adult: Oh I guess it must be a.....

......Dogwood.

Coquille River lighthouse, Bandon, Oregon

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Tybee Island, Georgia

We are confused what to call this story. We enjoy looking at and photographing lighthouses – they come in all varieties, sizes, and heights, with each colored in a unique paint scheme used by mariners to pinpoint their position along nearly indistinguishable shorelines.  Their light provides a winking shaft of reassuring security through the shrouding fog or gloomy darkness.  The technology is pretty amazing for basically being little changed since the 19th century.

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Fort Niagara New York

A Fresnel lens allows a beam of light from a puny little halogen lightbulb to be seen 25 miles out to sea at Cape Blanco in Oregon. Other lights being closer to the surface of the water can't be seen so far away.

Halogen bulbs inside the Cape Blanco lighthouse Fresnel lens. Yes that is the ocean in the background.

Think what it must have been like before GPS; you are at sea, the engine is sounding a little rough,  it is dark (inside the closet in the basement kind of dark), the seas are picking up , the wind is increasing, and then you see the flash of light sweeping the horizon. You count the seconds, look at your chart and you know you are near Cape Hatteras - the graveyard of the Atlantic. (Gulp!)

Maybe it isn’t always a welcome sight.

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Cape Hatteras light

So maybe the attraction is just the story. Maybe the symbolism of the light is what attracts so many landlubbers to this nautical aid? Or maybe just because they are built in cool places where the water meets the land. They may be mostly an anachronism but we think they are pretty interesting anyway.

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Detail of the edge of the Fresnel lens of the Cape Blanco, Oregon light.

Remember when you went to the public pool when you were a kid? Didn't you hate it when the lifeguard made everyone get out of the pool? In Port Orford, Oregon, all the fishing boats have to get out of the ocean. There really isn't a port, just a big wharf where the boats can be lifted out of the water and put on wheeled dollies. This makes for some interesting views of fishing boats. It just isn't that often you see an ocean-going fishing boat completely out of the water. These fishermen have to pull their boats whenever they are not fishing. I guess the good news is that maintenance has to be easier. On the day we were here, a winter storm was predicted to be coming ashore, so it looked like everybody was out of the water. Lots of interesting details to look at while we ate our lunch on the seawall, which appeared to be a whole lot nicer place than the port office.

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The Pit River in northeastern California spills over the Pit 4 Dam.

What is it about water flowing over dams? We have a long complicated relationship with dams, especially along the Pit River. Really complicated. Complicated like an evening soap opera plot. Complicated like a classic love/hate triangle. Complicated like the fine print on a form at the doctor's office. Complicated in ways we still don't really understand. Suffice it to say, we find ourselves attracted to dams flowing water when we are out making photos. Recently, the Pit 4 Dam was spilling water as we were out looking at the proverbial "stuff".  We had to stop and make some pictures. Color pictures. Abstract pictures. Monotone pictures. Simple pictures. Complicated pictures. Way tooooo many pictures. There was much groaning at the computer monitor when we saw how many pictures. So we winnowed them down to a smaller number. Hope you enjoy them, we do, but the reasons are complicated.

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Redbud along the road most traveled

Does this sound familiar? You travel the same road frequently. You notice something cool, or interesting but you never stop. Why don't you stop? Because you have to get someplace else. We finally stopped at one of these spots. This particular spot has beautiful redbud blossoms in the spring against gray rock. Unfortunately last fall a truck tipped over at this very location. The truck ended up being a hazardous material incident when stuff leaked onto the ground. The hazmat had to be dug up.  This resulted in the best clump of redbud being dug up. So this year we told ourselves: "We are going to stop here when the redbud blooms before they ruin this spot any more." And so we did. Turns out besides the redbud, there are other interesting plants there as well. And well worth the stop. (If you click on the thumbnails below you should be able to see them in a larger format, depending on your viewing device.)

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Or maybe you prefer the colors of the water or the earth?

Originally we had planned to post this immediately after we wrote it. Then the wind storm came and blew down trees, stripped roofs off houses and made a mess in the area we live. The wind painted the area with misery and trouble for about 48 hours. So it seemed a little insensitive to post this on the heels of such an event. But now that people have had a chance to get the electricity on and some time to clean up, we thought it was time to share these. Hopefully it will bring some joy.

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Giraffes. Everyone knows what a giraffe looks like. But have you ever seen one up close? There is only one word to describe the face of a giraffe - goofy. But you cannot deny they are tall. Some can be 19 feet tall allowing them to stand above the whistling thorn acacia and see what is around them. But being tall has disadvantages too. A giraffe baby has a 5 to 6 foot drop into the world. Guess they are tougher than they look.

Snow has come to the higher elevations. This is a big deal around here. Last year there was no snow. The result was a lot of wildfire in August. (See the page on the Siege of 2014 by clicking the link at the top of this page.) But this fall is different than last fall. Last year we had 0.86 inches of rain go through our rain bucket in November and December. This year with three weeks to go in December the rain bucket has measured 3.08 inches. That's more than 3.5 times what we had last year. Besides the water, storms mean clouds. Photographers love clouds, especially around sunset and sunrise. The accompanying photo was taken this week from the Twin Bridges area of the Lassen National Forest and shows Mt. Lassen emerging from the clouds of a clearing storm.

Hopefully, there will be lots more storms this winter with lots of opportunities for pictures, and water.

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Mt. Lassen emerges from a clearing storm at sunset.

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This is not about that Lynyrd Skynyrd song. No, it's about what we often say shortly after we step outside the plane or the airport in a new place. When we landed in Arusha, Tanzania, we were barely out of the aircraft door when my nose started crinkling. Wood smoke. Pretty strong too. That seems odd, I thought. Don't know what I expected to smell when I arrived in Africa, but it wasn't the smell of Southern California during a rash of Santa Ana wind fires. Turns out everyone cooks on wood and charcoal. Real charcoal, not briquets, but partially burned wood that someone within walking distance made in their back yard.

This was much different then getting off a plane in Costa Rica. The door opened and we strolled out into the tropical air lush with the aromas of vegetation and wet things. Not sure what kind of things but they were wet.

And it is not just third-world countries. There was the smell of walking through the airport/train station at Schipol in Amsterdam. Perfume. Bright, flowery, expensive scents not wafting from the duty free shops but from expensively dressed people - mostly speaking French. This was a 180-degree turn from past experiences with French speakers in the national parks of the western US.

Then Amsterdam itself. You can probably guess the aroma. Dope - in sudden, strong, overpowering gusts of nasal stimulation. And so randomly too. Sometimes in front of a "coffee shop", sometimes just walking down the street along the canals. Who knew Amsterdam would smell similar to Puerto Vallerta? We got off a cruise ship one evening in Puerto Vallarta to take a few pictures near sunset. We walked one block and suddenly  - yep, the smell of burning cannabis. Great (and yes that is a sarcastic great). I hate that particular smell.

Sometimes we smell things that are intimately related to our photography and we wish we could add them to the picture. The sweet fragrance of a grove of oranges in full bloom for instance. Or maybe the smell of sage after a summer thunderstorm in the Great Basin. Or recently in Africa, the metallic tang of fresh blood at the site of a hyena kill. All of them link back to pictures in our heads. At least for me, when I get lucky and make a really memorable image I find it often has a memory of a particular smell that goes with it. And sometimes the smell affects the photo too. So, do you smell that smell?

Boyd

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