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Color Photos

Produce, Still Life, and Fuzz in the Fridge

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Produce, Still Life, and Fuzz in the Fridge

I try not to visit the farmer's market on an empty stomach. The overstimulation of so much fresh, ripe food causes me to buy too much stuff. I lug it all home, as happy as a pig in pile of corn—all self-satisfied and content. But, by the miracle of time, alchemy and a big fridge, too much of the bright and colorful produce transforms into a khaki-colored sludge. This may be good for the compost pile but, at today's prices for organic produce, the green in my wallet disappears faster than the green in my refrigerator.

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Finch Encounters

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Finch Encounters

Wild animals come into our lives for only brief moments. One must be deft at beholding them. A photographer must also be quiet and at the ready. Fiddling around with cameras and settings can mean lost opportunity. The whirring of autofocus and the thunderous thud of an SLR shutter can scare off humans in the wild, let alone other warm-blooded creatures

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Tony is Here

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Tony is Here

Barbershops have changed a lot over the years. For example, back in the old days you’d never get a shampoo at one—that just wouldn’t happen. You dealt with the little bits of cut hair like a man—by scratching your neck and back and stomach until it was red. I still remember the day when they started to put sinks into my hometown barbershop. It was downhill from there. The scented shampoos replaced all the good stuff; the talcum powder, the scalp tonic, and most importantly, the straight-edge razor along with the leather sharpening strap. Now barbershops are like women’s salons except they still stick a barber’s pole outside so that men will go into them. Most barber’s poles don’t even rotate like they once did. It’s all fake now.

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Endings and a Barge in Venice

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Endings and a Barge in Venice

 "It's their last day tomorrow! Christmas Eve will be it for them."

I could hardly believe my ears. Our friend was pointing at the vegetable barge of Campo San Barnaba. The boat had had the best produce in the city and was a landmark of old Venice. The two brothers who ran the barge for many years were, alas, retiring. No other Venetians wanted to buy the business and their children had no interest in selling vegetables from a canal. So, this would be it. One more day and another piece of Venice would crumble away with time.

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