California Sketches

What is it about books? Books contain the kinetic power of possibilities. Gathered on shelves, multiplied in old stores and stacked in libraries, unseen spirit emanates from each. Wisdom and knowledge contained within a room full of books could mysteriously seep into me.

From the dark a startled crane rises, a specter with wings spread wide, glowing in a near-full moon rising. He is my reward for a patient afternoon watching and listening to birds.

We see them dropping out of the sky by ones and twos. Surfing thermals, they've been spotted by pilots at 12,000 feet.

The Tehachapi Mountains, viewed from the ascending slash of the Golden State Freeway at 70 mph, is hardly my idea of a beautiful landscape. Rising from the agricultural abundance of the Central Valley, these bleak, brown, steep hillsides are a visual shock.

At the genesis of the California Aqueduct near Tracy, a tumbleweed bears testimony to the truth that lies south. To the west of Interstate 5, parched golden grass covers desolate hills, broken only by newly planted cherry orchards. To the east, the Central Valley appears green.

The air is hot, still, silent. The water's surface flawlessly mirrors sky and tules, a dual image of calm that conceals a world of conflict. From the west, tides flow in and out, pushing and pulling – salt water vs. fresh, exotics species vs. native.

One fine spring day in 1875, John Muir hiked to the summit of Mount Shasta. In awe, he watched the weather change. "Storm clouds on the mountains – how truly beautiful they are! – floating fountains bearing water for every well; the angels of streams and lakes."

A gift of time brings me to a hill town in Tuscany this past winter. In the footsteps of D.H. Lawrence, Charles Dickens, Henry James and other artists, writers and travelers, I'm curious. I've come here for five weeks to find out why we search for sensations and connections from this ancient Etruscan place. What makes the Tuscan countryside so extraordinary?

A vanishing and mysterious phenomenon, concentrated on the western alluvial slopes of the Sierra, spans much of California's Great Valley. Vernal pools.

Russ Solomon finds people fascinating. He's curious. Intuitively drawn to faces, he takes pictures to discover what is real. As he moves in closer, his camera records an image. A close-up of a face reveals character. This process of discovery defines Russ as an artist, and artistic expression often communicates as much about the artist as the subject.

West of Hazel Avenue, a hazy warm morning makes for perfect canoeing. In the shelter of Sailor Bar, the water is mirror smooth. The canoe glides silently over weary salmon and cobbles worn smooth. From the bow, the main channel looks wide, daunting, fast and rough. The paddler looks ahead, reading the language of the river. On the surface, ominous raised pillow shapes indicate vertical currents below, while eddies threaten the unwary. Haystacks of angry water indicate hard, shallow objects. The river slaps against the canoe. The paddler looks for a funnel shape in the river and heads for the deepest part of the "V," the safest passage.

Soaring steel beams and curved surfaces of wood and glass define Sacramento's new international airport terminal. Expressed in this vast, light-filled and transparent space is a narrative about the spirit of this land, a flat, richly patterned landscape bordered by two mountain ranges.

Poised at the edge of the new Bay Bridge, 150 feet above water, I stand suspended on a temporary platform – awestruck. Looking west, across a 370-foot gap, another section emerges from Yerba Buena Island. Like the Transcontinental Railroad that linked America, the new Bay Bridge construction materializes from opposite shores.

Alcatraz from the inside provides a stark contrast to the outside, though not as you'd expect.

On a farm near Winters, an almond orchard lies in destruction. Fragments of branches and tree trunks are piled up like gravestones in a cemetery – a monument to each tree. In the midst of the field stand a farmworker and a backhoe.