The dust of Christmas is almost settled. The last gasp of a difficult year. As usual, by the time we made it to the City, with Pacific Heights as our destination, and had our packed lunch, the light was nearly gone. But through the magic of a tripod, we still managed a few interesting images. Catherine, instead of pointing out subjects to me and offering her typically strong opinions on my compositional decisions, drifted away from me and captured quite a few interesting images on her own.

Sometimes, as I walk around the magnificent homes in this neighborhood, I suffer a certain amount of envy, especially when I see a house that takes up the better part of an entire block. Catherine is amazingly free of envy, and just enjoys their magnificence. But in any event, they are often visually exciting enough that my desire to make interesting photographs takes over and pushes my envy aside. It also helps to remember that the folks who live in these grand palaces struggle, suffer, and die, just like everyone else.

As dark finally fell, so did my energy, and I said, Let’s go home. But Catherine was determined to continue, and drove around the neighborhood looking for homes with particularly elaborate decorations. I wasn’t having it. But one spectacularly lit up home caught my eye and overcame my lassitude. So despite the—for us sissies in San Francisco’s temperate climate—bitter cold, I pulled myself together and managed another solid effort before heading back home.