My cheap Canon and I, we go places.

At some point the inevitable has to be embraced. The looming cold season is coming, and I suppose there's something enigmatic about the temporary death of follicles. Maybe it's the color metamorphosis, maybe I love crunchy leaves.


Ninety miles outside Chicago is a park called Starved Rock. It got it's name because an Indian tribe was supposedly trapped on this rock and starved.


Despite the long overdue SLR camera that I'm suppose to own by now, the manual feature of my point and shoot helped me take "berry" good shots.


It was kinda overcast. See sum mow of the hike here. Shaka always.