Here comes the sun

It was a good weekend for taking pictures.

Saturday was chilly and foggy, not the best picture-taking weather, but I still popped the point-and-shoot into my bag when I went out to run errands. I’m glad I did. Walking home through Golden Gate Park, I passed the dahlia garden next to the Conservatory of Flowers; even in that flat grey light that ordinarily washes everything out, the flowers glowed as if each one had its own tiny spotlight.

Today, though, was clear and bright and warm. I grabbed the DSLR and headed across town to see what I could find. I ended up in the Castro, where I shot some streetscapes and some building details and a group of men taking pictures of each other in front of what was once Harvey Milk’s camera shop and is now a gallery and gift shop. I noticed the Harvey Milk mural that’s on the wall perpendicular to the window and ducked in to get a closer look. Then I was distracted by the jewelry, all by local artisans.

I started talking to the man behind the counter, and he insisted I try a few things on. I ogled. We chatted. And then I did something I rarely do, something that usually makes me feel awkward: I asked if I could take his picture. What was I worried about? He immediately said, “Absolutely, just get my dog in the shot.”

So I did.

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