Sacramento Delta

When I visit the Sacramento Delta with my family, I often bring my camera. It feels like another world out there—though it’s only a short drive away—so there’s always something that catches my eye. The flatness of the land stretching from horizon to horizon is a contrast to the jagged skyline of San Francisco, or the rolling hills of the East Bay where I grew up. On one of those trips, I snapped a seemingly simple photo of a train rolling by. I didn’t think much of it. But once I got home, the photo revealed some of my favorite memories of the area.

When I close my eyes, what I remember most is the unceasing wind. It turns the marshlands into a symphony. The gusts blow past my ears with a gentle roar. The sound undulates, sometimes hushed and sometimes a shout, but it never stops. Above the consistent refrain, reeds clap and clack in staccato as they sway to and fro. Tall golden grasses rustle as they bend over and whisper in conversation. The occasional croak or trill of hidden creatures embellishes the melody.

In my mind’s eye, I see the expansive sky. Sometimes it is a brilliant uninterrupted blue from horizon to horizon; other times it’s covered by a thickly woven blanket of clouds. In the photo, it was one of those brilliant blue days. But I chose to depict another day when the fierce winds sent gusts of marshmallow clouds dancing across the sky.

And what would a trip to the delta be without the birds? Birds were the reason my family made our first trip north to the area, and no matter how many times we’ve seen the flocks filling up the sky over the years, we are still in awe when the birds pass us on their yearly migrations. On this particular trip, we thought the geese, ducks, sandhill cranes, and shorebirds were all gone. Had we come too late? In fact, they were such tiny specks in my viewfinder that I’d missed them. So on paper they got bigger (I can only cut so small, and I didn’t want them to be missed by anyone else.)