I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the sides of the road. Odd, I know. Maybe not since I spend 2 hours in the car each day commuting. For instance, the picture above is a work of “art” I found…you guessed it…on the side of the road. Not a freeway or highway, but Gough, a decent enough, heavily trafficked street in San Francisco. So that counts.
Every year on my main highway, when the daffodils and mustard greens pop open yellow, I send my mom a picture. Don’t worry–I just aim while keeping my eye on the road. It usually takes several takes to get a decent shot, and even then, I have to zoom and crop. But I know how much she loves the pictures, as do I. And once upon a time, I would print those same pictures, and bring them to my Gram, who treasured their timely arrival. It’s just something I do, I guess.
In early March, I saw an abandoned, very brown Christmas tree on the side of the highway, and I laughed out loud. And the best ever Side-Of-The-Road-Experience was the burning mattress. For that one, fortunately, I had a witness. We were dying laughing. The sides of the road mostly produce trash, laughs, and the occasional pieces of strewn clothing. I remain vigilant to my constant scanning, and usually, it produces Continue reading