Two years ago, in honor of our town’s Centennial, the Recreation and Community Services Department invited us to celebrate by gathering with our neighbors to enjoy Dinner With Albany. It was a magical evening.

Now our town is 102, and the invitation went out again. Last Saturday we gathered around tables set up in the street, we toasted our town and each other, and we danced under the almost-full harvest moon.

It wasn’t about politics or fundraising. The only agenda was for neighbors and friends to get together to enjoy a beautiful Indian Summer evening. It was simply fun. As my neighbor Peggy put it, it was Albany at its finest.

The Albany Recreation and Community Services Department commissioned me to photograph the event. Now they want to make the images available to attendees as their gift. Here’s how it works. You can see the images on my website here. If you see yourself and would like a copy, let me know at dorothybrownphotography@gmail.com. (You can email me directly from the Home Page on my website.) I’ll be happy to email the image to you. Albanians, please feel free to pass this along to friends who were there. You can use the icons below to send this post by email, Facebook or Twitter.

A huge thank you to all the staff and volunteers who worked so tirelessly so we could have a blast. This is a pretty cool town.

On the way back from dropping Hilary at UCSB last Sunday, I stopped at Mission San Miguel. I have only visited a handful of the 21 California missions, but this one is particularly lovely. It is still a parish church with an active congregation. They were inside at Mass while I wandered the grounds. The muted tones of adobe, wood and tile seem suited for presentation in sepia.

A docent told me that the Mission is being preserved in its current state, rather than being restored. They no longer allow candles in the church because the smoke damages the murals. Perhaps that is why this incense burner was brought outside as the Mass continued.

This gentleman waited for a signal from inside the church before he rang the bell.

A peaceful and beautiful place.

The cacti were blooming. Cactus flowers are best rendered in color, don’t you think?

All in all, a lovely place to break up the long journey home.

I follow some remarkable photographers through their blogs. It is a way for me to study different styles of photography and to appreciate the art that others are making. Sometimes a particular image will strike a chord, or a technique will intrigue me and get me thinking how I might apply that thought to my own photography. In every case, I am grateful that these generous and talented people share their work in this way.

I am also delighted with my associate with Albany.Patch.com. My weekly photo feature, “On San Pablo”, allows me to look with fresh eyes at this town I have lived in for 21 years. What stands out? What is unique? How can I make what has become ordinary interesting again?

This week I took inspiration from two of my favorite teachers. Sabrina Henry was in Chicago recently and woke up early to watch the city come to life. Her images are wonderful. The black and white treatment makes them especially evocative to me. Eli Reinholdtsen specializes in reflections. Her work is both creative and thought-provoking, and often shows a marvelous sense of humor. She shares her techniques in an eBook called Chasing Reflections available through Craft and Vision.

With their images in mind, I decided to take a look at San Pablo Avenue in the early morning, and to render the images in black and white. It was a really fun exercise. It was so interesting to pay attention both to what was on the other side of the windows and to what from the outside was reflected in them. This one is my favorite. The espresso sign inside seemed appropriate for the early hour, and I love the reflection of the two auto repair guys across the street. (Remember you can click on the images to enlarge them.)

I like this one too, because San Pablo Avenue is usually filled with traffic. The stools upended on the tables inside say “closed” to the one lonely car passing by outside.

I was also able to indulge my own sense of humor. It made me chuckle to see a K-9 patrol car outside the Club Mallard. I hope the dogs were retrievers.

I am a morning person, but I am not often up and out and paying attention to the world around me that early. It was truly eye-opening. And fun.

You can see the entire photo essay here on Albany.Patch.com.

This is what Solano Avenue looks like on a normal day.

And this is what it looks like on the second Sunday in September every year, at the Solano Stroll.

I have mentioned before that I’m not a big fan of crowds. But when the street party is right down your street, you have to go, right? It’s fun to see the kids in the parade, to run into neighbors, to listen to good music. And it’s also fun — I’m not going to lie — to go home, shut the door, and put your feet up.

Strolling amid 300,000 people takes attention and some patience. Taking photographs adds another layer of challenge. You can’t control the light or the background because you can’t really move around. Once you have your spot, you do your best, waiting for a moment. Then someone extends their iPhone at arm’s length right in your shot just as you depress the shutter. (But I’m not bitter.) And you try valiantly not to get in anybody else’s way. (If I did, I’m really, really sorry.)

For me, it is sensory overload. So I set myself the goal of looking for the specific within the general chaos. I wanted to find some small moments that, writ large, made up the Stroll. And that made the whole experience so much more fun. I saw my favorite things and some new things. Let me break it down:

There was talent.

And humor.

And hot work.

And some boredom.

Joy on young faces.

And joy on young-at-heart faces.

It was a great big party in my little town. If you were there, I hope you had a grand time. I did. Specifically.

This is a post about practice. It should be filled with sports metaphors, but I was never an athlete. Instead I am reminded of my attempt a few years back to learn to play the violin. I watched 8-year-old Hilary sawing away on her half-size fiddle, attacking jigs and reels with such gusto, and thought it would be fun. Well, it was many things and perhaps fun was one of them, occasionally. The violin is a difficult instrument. There are no frets to tell you where to place your fingers. Your left and right hands are doing two completely different things. My instinct was to clench and tighten, but the best music is made when you relax.

More than anything, I wanted to learn to play Ashokan Farewell, the haunting theme written by Jay Ungar. I have loved that song ever since I heard it in Ken Burns’ series The Civil War. I played and practiced and learned the notes. But it remained an exercise, never a song.

In the end, I exercised the privilege of adulthood and decided this wasn’t the way I wanted to spend my free time. I stopped taking lessons and returned my rented violin. But the time wasn’t wasted. I have such respect for people with the talent and dedication it takes to master the violin. Now when I hear Ashokan Farewell played with sweet sadness, it is even more beautiful.

I can draw several parallels to photography. It too is hard. It too takes dedication, discipline, and talent. As I delve deeper into the study and follow photographers I truly admire, the bar is set higher and higher. And while that can be intimidating and discouraging, for whatever reason it also makes me want to be better. I aspire.

Which brings me to the blog post I had hoped to write. Last weekend Todd and I went to a minor league baseball game. I intended to treat you to a little slice of summer. I saw the moments and images: the look of surprise and delight on the face of the man who caught the foul ball a few seats over from us; the three little girls, backs to the field, having a wonderful time playing with the stuffed bears that were the night’s giveaway; the young man changing the numbers on the old-school scoreboard. I saw the images. I wanted them. I didn’t get them.

So if this blog is my concert stage, I have nothing to play for you. And I have too much respect for photography and you to pretend. And while that is a little disappointing, it is not discouraging. Because after all, it’s not about the blog, it’s about the experience. And having an eye out for those moments kept me in the game. When I have my camera with me, I see better. I had a great time. And if all that improved was my critical eye, that’s okay. Knowing when a photograph isn’t compelling is important too.

So I’ll stick with it. I’ll keep studying and practicing and playing. I’ll aspire to home runs, and share the base hits and even the strikes along the way. I hope you’ll come along for the ride.

I think I actually snuck a sports metaphor in there. What do you know.