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BridgeAtAnoNuevo : Bee's wax and Pigment on Paper 22"X30" They were away that weekend, another rodeo or something and so I managed some time on that September Saturday to drive down highway 1 to Ano Nuevo. There is a burned out tree on the side of the road marking the trail through the sand dunes, through valleys of sea grasses, the clouds sailing overhead casting shadows like birds in flight. I was alone but I felt her presence, like the dreams I had the night before I carried with me, like water with a wanderer. I return here often, like today on this dark November afternoon. And I don’t know why I left so late in the afternoon?Already the light is failing, having barely made its appearance at all, with the thick gray cloud cover. And I wonder about this old decaying bridge, the same bridge that Ben and I dropped maple seeds from, to watch them whirl and disappear into the creek below.Every bridge I come to I want to linger on, never quite sure if I should keep going, go back or just remain suspended between the two possibilities.
BridgeAtAnoNuevo
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