whales and sugar
I found this wonderful set on flickr today on a little town I used to live in.
My last six months in the Bay Area I spent in the waterfront community of Crockett best known for the C & H Sugar Factory (C & H= California & Hawaii) sign seen to the East of the bridges of Hwy 80 connecting the East Bay with the Delta plains up to Sacramento and then Sierra foothills. The whales in the news this last week had to pass through this strait to leave the Bay to head up the Delta.
Photo by Jeremy Brooks under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 2.0
Paid $1,000 for a GIANT four bedroom flat and half of the six months lived alone for my first time. Two baths, garage, wood floors, an enormous stone layered fireplace all to my self; one room set aside as a future studio, another as an office. From one of the empty bedrooms I could see down into the main part of of the one stoplight/one gas station town past the factory as tanker ships slipped under the bridge peaks that poked up over the hill blocking my westward view.
I would fall asleep to the trains passing along the edge of water with horns sounding off at the crossing below and wake up in a fog sunken valley. This was perfect: walked out onto my porch wrapped in thrift store coat warmth with a smoke in the right hand, my second cup of coffee in the left, the houses across the street where all coated fog white and I would blankly listened to the trains passing along the edge of water with horns sounding off at the crossing below.
My last six months in the Bay Area I spent in the waterfront community of Crockett best known for the C & H Sugar Factory (C & H= California & Hawaii) sign seen to the East of the bridges of Hwy 80 connecting the East Bay with the Delta plains up to Sacramento and then Sierra foothills. The whales in the news this last week had to pass through this strait to leave the Bay to head up the Delta.
Photo by Jeremy Brooks under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 2.0
Paid $1,000 for a GIANT four bedroom flat and half of the six months lived alone for my first time. Two baths, garage, wood floors, an enormous stone layered fireplace all to my self; one room set aside as a future studio, another as an office. From one of the empty bedrooms I could see down into the main part of of the one stoplight/one gas station town past the factory as tanker ships slipped under the bridge peaks that poked up over the hill blocking my westward view.
I would fall asleep to the trains passing along the edge of water with horns sounding off at the crossing below and wake up in a fog sunken valley. This was perfect: walked out onto my porch wrapped in thrift store coat warmth with a smoke in the right hand, my second cup of coffee in the left, the houses across the street where all coated fog white and I would blankly listened to the trains passing along the edge of water with horns sounding off at the crossing below.
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