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It's still early afternoon but if this sky is any warning, another heavy afternoon thunder storm is moments away. From the silhouettes of the darkened office towers in downtown, and the lights on the cars, you would guess it's much later in the day. These are probably Friday afternoon lunch-goers returning to work (or skipping out early for home.) Within an hour or so the wind will have died down, the skies will brighten and the white clouds will return to the skies.
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I walked over to capture a few images of the balustrades that line the entire 4-1/2 mile length of Tampa's Bayshore Boulevard. The "Boulevard of Dreams" that curves along the Hillsborough Bay from downtown to Gandy Boulevard is a gorgeous drive and is always filled with people and pets enjoying the grass and wide sidewalk. It even features exercise stations along the way. Just as I began to see interesting camera angles combining the downtown cityscape and huge billowing clouds that were hanging over the east, a crack of thunder turned me around. The western sky was turning very dark and ominous black clouds were rolling fast toward the east, toward me standing on a slippery concrete step that leads down to a landing at the water's edge. Bayshore is a really beautiful drive - at 40mph speed limit or else! - and is proud to boast of the world's longest continuous sidewalk. The Hillsborough Bay was growing choppy and it began to sprinkle as runners, joggers, bicyclists and a soon to be rained on photographer were getting in their last few minutes before the certain deluge. Owners of the majestic old homes and condominiums that line the boulevard have a fantastic view as dark clouds develop and rain moves across the water and waves begin to pound the sea wall. When a storm - not even near hurricane strength - comes ashore right at this point, the tide rises up and waves of water crash over the wall and balustrades. The Bayshore can quickly become inundated and yards and streets nearby fill with water. At first it can be fun to watch the power and force that can drive the Gulf and bay onto the land. Very quickly the fun leaves you as cars begin to flood and waves of salt water move further inland. With thoughts of certain sogginess in my head, I got off the landing and headed to shelter. I escaped a good drenching this evening. But only just in time.
Florida would have a tough time today coming up with the name Sunshine State as rain continues to fall pretty regularly. After yesterday's great fun visiting with and sharing with you the story of Mr. Stan Good and his not-to-be-believed clocks and fan museum, I find the quiet and solidarity of this fishing pier shrouded in gray and drizzling sky a welcome respite. Even though fish certainly do come up to the surface for the anglers as rain falls, and they are of course just as interested in the fresh bait shrimp as they are when it's clear and 90 degrees, the fishermen aren't quite as comfortable in the water as are the creatures with fins and gills. (Although it might be worth our while to check out those gills as a possibility for the near future if the blue sky doesn't return soon.) As for me, I've never posted a black and white photo before but this day seemed to call for it. The many shades of gray, the white whites and black blacks perfectly define our mood sometimes. Right? And, the pier takes on another personality altogether. (Black and white does have its creative purposes.) Plus, some subjects just beg to be captured and defined devoid of color. The only question I'm left with is, Are the fish we can't see still in their vast array of colors?
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What is one to do when it rains every day? I know many of our friends in other countries, and in a beautiful city such as Seattle, Washington, can go on and on with long lists of dozens of rainy day activities. They deal with it nearly year-round. Me? It's Tampa. Florida. The Sunshine State. Where bright blue skies and oppressive heat are the daily norm. But the rain? I can well remember a morning in Venice, trying to cross the bridge and visit Peggy Guggenheim's house, and enjoy her incredible collection of modern art. The rain soaked walkways and passageways from St. Mark's were so under water that ankle deep puddles, torn umbrellas and pants soaked to the knee were the result. But, here's the kicker, my photos as we crossed the Ponte dell' Accademia over the canal to the buildings, boats and people were outstanding. The clarity. The colors. So unbelievable and memorable. Some of my best ever. Now, the equipment (and I) were soaked but the results that day from the bridge work because of the weather. Rainy gray skies are often the perfect measurable neutral gray which result in excellent color fidelity. The brilliance of the colors isn't affected by the color of the sky. Now please understand, I am not complaining about our rain. We need it so bad. But the lack of sunshine, constant drizzling and thunderstorms do get to your mood. Is it blue, melancholy, depressing? Or contemplative and good for the mind and soul to not be ravished to a crisp by the heat and sun every minute of the day. The constant downpours over the past several days mean a light jacket and umbrella are at hand, and in use. This evening I met a friend for drinks at a terrific restaurant on the water. I darted in and out parking the car and was clearly reminded of making my way to Peggy's house in Venice and the fun of not quite dodging or escaping the deluge that frequently consumes that magnificent city. Tampa is not Venice. But from time to time it's nice to be reminded of the colors that surround us and the comforting nature of a good, hard rain.
This is still one of Tampa's prettiest and oldest neighborhoods and because of its lack of sidewalks, curbs and fancy street-striping, it still, thankfully, has the look and feel of old Florida. That's why these folks love to live here. It's a not a well-known place to many newcomers who call Tampa home, especially if they never ever travel south of Gandy and follow Interbay as it meanders along its brick pavers to this intersection. Low-hanging, moss-draped oak trees and sleepy lanes are close by the horse stables, Ballast Point Park and the Tampa Yacht & Country Club founded on the Hillsborough Bay in 1904. It is one of the sleepiest, quietest and least-traveled roads. Its low traffic count and out-of-the-way nature are why most everyone would agree it's near perfect. Don't change a thing. Certainly don't improve it. As so many of us in Tampa endure the current drought, we've been anxiously awaiting the Summer rains that begin in June. But as we watch helplessly as our yards and plants die, we find ourselves begging for the skies to open up and dump buckets of rain on us. Well, yesterday and today we got the deluge. Hours of rain. It thundered, and stormed and rained down 1, 2, even 3-inches of rain. Flooded streets overflowing curbs into yards. A most welcome sight. As I slowly made my way out in this afternoon's heavy downpour, I came to a near stop to slowly navigate the flooding in Ballast Point. It's a beautiful place to live and play, just yards off the open bay, but street drainage is not its big selling point. Caution. Stop sign ahead. Underwater. It'll drain off pretty fast and the old brick and asphalt will sizzle and stream as the sun slowly breaks through. Maybe. But who's complaining about a little shower. Ah, old Florida. Just keep those rain clouds coming.
.jpg)
It's still early afternoon but if this sky is any warning, another heavy afternoon thunder storm is moments away. From the silhouettes of the darkened office towers in downtown, and the lights on the cars, you would guess it's much later in the day. These are probably Friday afternoon lunch-goers returning to work (or skipping out early for home.) Within an hour or so the wind will have died down, the skies will brighten and the white clouds will return to the skies.
.jpg)
Florida would have a tough time today coming up with the name Sunshine State as rain continues to fall pretty regularly. After yesterday's great fun visiting with and sharing with you the story of Mr. Stan Good and his not-to-be-believed clocks and fan museum, I find the quiet and solidarity of this fishing pier shrouded in gray and drizzling sky a welcome respite. Even though fish certainly do come up to the surface for the anglers as rain falls, and they are of course just as interested in the fresh bait shrimp as they are when it's clear and 90 degrees, the fishermen aren't quite as comfortable in the water as are the creatures with fins and gills. (Although it might be worth our while to check out those gills as a possibility for the near future if the blue sky doesn't return soon.) As for me, I've never posted a black and white photo before but this day seemed to call for it. The many shades of gray, the white whites and black blacks perfectly define our mood sometimes. Right? And, the pier takes on another personality altogether. (Black and white does have its creative purposes.) Plus, some subjects just beg to be captured and defined devoid of color. The only question I'm left with is, Are the fish we can't see still in their vast array of colors?
.jpg)
What is one to do when it rains every day? I know many of our friends in other countries, and in a beautiful city such as Seattle, Washington, can go on and on with long lists of dozens of rainy day activities. They deal with it nearly year-round. Me? It's Tampa. Florida. The Sunshine State. Where bright blue skies and oppressive heat are the daily norm. But the rain? I can well remember a morning in Venice, trying to cross the bridge and visit Peggy Guggenheim's house, and enjoy her incredible collection of modern art. The rain soaked walkways and passageways from St. Mark's were so under water that ankle deep puddles, torn umbrellas and pants soaked to the knee were the result. But, here's the kicker, my photos as we crossed the Ponte dell' Accademia over the canal to the buildings, boats and people were outstanding. The clarity. The colors. So unbelievable and memorable. Some of my best ever. Now, the equipment (and I) were soaked but the results that day from the bridge work because of the weather. Rainy gray skies are often the perfect measurable neutral gray which result in excellent color fidelity. The brilliance of the colors isn't affected by the color of the sky. Now please understand, I am not complaining about our rain. We need it so bad. But the lack of sunshine, constant drizzling and thunderstorms do get to your mood. Is it blue, melancholy, depressing? Or contemplative and good for the mind and soul to not be ravished to a crisp by the heat and sun every minute of the day. The constant downpours over the past several days mean a light jacket and umbrella are at hand, and in use. This evening I met a friend for drinks at a terrific restaurant on the water. I darted in and out parking the car and was clearly reminded of making my way to Peggy's house in Venice and the fun of not quite dodging or escaping the deluge that frequently consumes that magnificent city. Tampa is not Venice. But from time to time it's nice to be reminded of the colors that surround us and the comforting nature of a good, hard rain.
This is still one of Tampa's prettiest and oldest neighborhoods and because of its lack of sidewalks, curbs and fancy street-striping, it still, thankfully, has the look and feel of old Florida. That's why these folks love to live here. It's a not a well-known place to many newcomers who call Tampa home, especially if they never ever travel south of Gandy and follow Interbay as it meanders along its brick pavers to this intersection. Low-hanging, moss-draped oak trees and sleepy lanes are close by the horse stables, Ballast Point Park and the Tampa Yacht & Country Club founded on the Hillsborough Bay in 1904. It is one of the sleepiest, quietest and least-traveled roads. Its low traffic count and out-of-the-way nature are why most everyone would agree it's near perfect. Don't change a thing. Certainly don't improve it. As so many of us in Tampa endure the current drought, we've been anxiously awaiting the Summer rains that begin in June. But as we watch helplessly as our yards and plants die, we find ourselves begging for the skies to open up and dump buckets of rain on us. Well, yesterday and today we got the deluge. Hours of rain. It thundered, and stormed and rained down 1, 2, even 3-inches of rain. Flooded streets overflowing curbs into yards. A most welcome sight. As I slowly made my way out in this afternoon's heavy downpour, I came to a near stop to slowly navigate the flooding in Ballast Point. It's a beautiful place to live and play, just yards off the open bay, but street drainage is not its big selling point. Caution. Stop sign ahead. Underwater. It'll drain off pretty fast and the old brick and asphalt will sizzle and stream as the sun slowly breaks through. Maybe. But who's complaining about a little shower. Ah, old Florida. Just keep those rain clouds coming.
