I lived in San Jose (well, the Campbell ‘burb really) during my high school years, so it’s a little magical seeing it from the air these many years later. As if there’s a special texture to the way it sprawls south from the Bay between two mountain ranges. The evening light of our flight back home to SB added a touch of melancholy to this enigmatic vacant section.
0367 Forgotten Dreams?
I was curious about this large vacant tract surrounded by houses, and the curved rows of trees. Seems to me it was once a golf course, and now just serves as pasture to a few happy cattle. Since it’s so near the Reid Hillview airport (just on the other side of Cunningham Lake) far across the valley from Campbell, I never saw it when living there. My love of all things aviation did draw me in my youth to the larger SJC airport, where I’d park beneath the approach end, to dream on the wide variety of landing planes. A few miles later I gazed
0368 Hills of Home
across the rolling brown hills and felt again the warmth of such scenes bring to my soul. For people of different regions, this velvety golden brown holds little appeal. To me, the open vistas and clusters of oak forest bring a contrast of colors and textures that nourish me with variety and perspective. A little later as shadows grew even longer we passed Pinnacles again.
0372 Pinnacle Panorama
This time there was far less smoke and we were lower with a slightly different track through the area. Each time we pass, different formations of stone textured by time leap out to the eye. Like the way this long furrowed ridge dances with the light. Nearby a cluster of outcrops with different weathered faces forms a varied family watching our passage in silent witness.
0377 Silent Witness
A neighboring low round pillar squats near this angular sharp ridge, as if waiting patiently there to remind us of all the eons invested in achieving the texture we so enjoyed approaching this particular sunset. Appreciating the bones of our planet, perhaps helps us awaken more fully to the memories that have carved our own souls.
0394 Time Tale
John & Anne Wiley 
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