When I arrived at work Monday morning, my in-box (well, in-chair—books and manuscripts are too bulky for a mere box) was piled several feet high, and when I finally left that day, I’d hardly made a dent in the stack. For a few pouty moments on the subway home, I swore I’d never go on vacation again.
But by now I’ve managed to beat my to-do list to reasonable length, so I’m done pouting and am happily remembering a wonderful vacation. Sean and I had a great time in San Francisco. It didn’t take us long to realize that the brisk New Yorker walk we’ve acquired is suicidal on forty-degree inclines, and once we modified our strides accordingly, we enjoyed exploring Chinatown and Russian Hill and Golden Gate Park and the expanse of the Presidio along the bay. (Sea lions! In the wild! So cool!)
But as much fun as we had exploring a city so unlike New York in its rhythms and vistas, we had even more fun leaving the city entirely. Yosemite was sublime in the true sense of the word, so grand and vast and breathtaking that to describe it as beautiful would be too limiting. Gazing up at those enormous granite cliffs, or a clear cascade of snowmelt, or the night sky spangled with countless stars, or a tree older than me, my grandparents, my country, or my religion—it’s overwhelming. I can’t find words that don’t feel hopelessly inadequate.
So this, of course, is my cue to introduce a few photographs Sean took on our trip … but unfortunately, he, too, has been very busy returning to work and hasn’t yet had the chance to edit the hundreds of photos he took with his beloved digital camera (“a Nikon D80 with an AF-S Nikkor 18-200mm DX lens and a 4-gig Lexar pro SD card”—I don’t know what that means, but it’s Sean’s baby, and he takes beautiful photographs). This weekend, though, we’ll sort through the 883 frames and pick a few to share.