A passing ...

A former colleague, a friend of mine, died last Friday. He had been ill with pneumonia. I hadn't seen him in years, but I kept track of him and his wonderful photography work on - where else - Facebook, as did thousands of his other "friends."

I liked seeing the frequent postings of photos, old and new, that were all available for purchase. Already the owner of one of his photographs, I mused about buying more and even talked to him, via FB msgs, about possibly buying another one this past year. 

But a couple of weeks ago, the photos were replaced with postings about his illness, even a couple of selfies of him in the hospital looking alaramingly ill. I was happy to see a post last week that said he was at home and looking forward to a full recovery. Then, just a couple of days later, the weekend FB feed showed an outpouring of grief over his death Friday.

I was stunned and saddened by the loss of a nice, talented man who seemed definitely too young (53) to die. I thought of how vibrant his life seemed in San Antonio, how he was loved and admired.

Then, selfishly, I thought about how I was about the same age and how terrible it would be, to me, to die right now! Seems there are so many things to do - write that book, get to know my biological family better, lose those 10 pounds, find a place in the country.

So I came back here today to this blog to get back into its purpose, to write about the precious moments we are given during this brief stay on Earth.

I think Rick Hunter must have used his time right. I met him back around 1995 when I first started working for the San Antonio Express-News. He was a good-looking photographer who was into his work. I can remember asking him about the barbed-wire tattoo he had around the base of his (marriage) ring finger. It's a reminder, he said. What a rogue, I thought, in a nice way.

But I always admired his work and I wondered if he ever settled down. Seems he did, sort of. The obituary talked his partner of 17 years, a beautiful woman who said she loved him with all her heart, even though it was very hard to sometimes. Her comment made me think of the tattoo - and how agonizing it can be sometimes to love a man. I guess that's what happens when you happen onto such an emotional bond.

RIP Rick Hunter. I am sorry you had to leave so early. Below is a photo by Rick and a poem by his partner, Shelbi Lyn. 

Waiting for it ...

Much of the time, and I'm not the first to say this, Houstonians are either slogging through summer, dreading for it come or praying for it to end. Then there are days like today, when we cannot remember what heat and humidity mean. It's clear, it's a tiny bit cold. It's bliss. I snapped this shot of the UH campus on a quiet Friday afternoon. I had stepped outside, trying to shake off the thoughts that were bugging me. It worked. Thanks Houston. And yes, I will soon forget I ever said or thought this!  

Garden as art

It's been a long time since I posted anything on this blog. Christmas in Ely, England. New Year's out in Fayetteville. Both trips went unnoticed in this blog but not by me. Time to start posting again. It has been really lovely weather lately in Houston - many sunny days, nice rains, cool evenings. Soon enough it will be like the surface of Venus, but it is nice for now. Enjoy it. Planted a spring garden recently - tomatoes, green beans, black-eyed peas, herbs, cucumbers and lettuces. Cross your fingers. After we finished planting, I looked around the community garden and found this divine allotment. It is art itself.