Mabel's MUNI Sketchbook

The bus ride to kindergarten was only a few minutes long, but Mabel usually found time for us to make quick, parallel pictures in a small calendar-notebook she would retrieve from my bag. We would hurry to finish drawing and writing before our stop came.  

Beach Bijoux

Friday morning Mabel and Daddy took MUNI out to San Francisco's Ocean Beach. They removed shoes and socks, walked in shallow water at the edge of the Pacific and picked up many objects from the sand. Daddy washed these after Mabel's nap, about the same time I came over to visit. And that is how I chanced to photograph the sorting and examination of each shell and bit of seaweed and rock.

If other examples were lacking, this one would be sufficient to indicate that Mabel has inherited the curatorial gene that has played a large part in the careers of more than one close relative.

Instagram Togertherness

Mabel's Grandma from North Carolina is making the much-anticipated spring visit this week, and Mabel has put her best energy into showing off various happy views of San Francisco and basking in this too-infrequent and highly welcome company. My daughter provides the Instagram evidence.
 

Bus Sun

On Wednesday morning Mabel Watson Payne and Daddy  took me along on the bus routes they have learned all about for destinations such as Golden Gate Park, where we were headed.

Bus Pair

Mabel Watson Payne and Daddy stare in awe on Wednesday morning as the bus passes the place where Mabel was born.

Cold Winter Light

The sun was coming up behind Mission High School as I was doing laundry Thursday morning.

Despite all the cold and rain of December, some of the ginkgo trees in my neighborhood are holding onto their leaves, which seem not to have finished turning yellow yet  (even though as far back as early November the ginkgo trees in Golden Gate Park were beginning to drop their bright yellow leaves, as seen here).  

Having stowed the laundry, I set off  for the produce market and took the last picture of the morning (palm trees on Dolores and the Gothic-ornamented roof-line of a 1920s apartment house). The sun was getting higher and soon the light in San Francisco would not be so interesting anymore.

Music

Mabel Watson Payne on a rainy Friday afternoon, holding the olden-days blue plastic CD-player I use (while commuting on MUNI) for listening to opera with my treasured Bose headphones (which nevertheless Mabel is of course welcome to play with absolutely anytime). She was curious about how all the pieces fitted together and how the sound came through the headphones right into her ears. But she asked me to turn the volume down almost to a whisper, otherwise it seemed too loud to her.