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Michael Ubaldi, June 30, 2004.
 

The flight to Kelleys Island Airport was quick, beautiful and painless. Haze made nearly all attempts at photography fruitless, but I managed to catch a few above the Lake Erie shoreline that managed at least to look like a colorful evening.

 
 
 
 
Michael Ubaldi, June 17, 2004.
 

In Cleveland, weather goes from curious to downright ugly and dangerous in moments. Speaking of photographs, the Albany Excursion will be online this weekend. Right now, I'm battening down the hatches.

 
 
 
 
Michael Ubaldi, June 3, 2004.
 

A few times over the course of last year I made promises to start a photography weblog. I certainly had the material, snapping shot after shot of the view outside my window and footage from some field trips. On the craftsman's side of things, however, a separate weblog just wasn't coming; I tried and failed to satisfactorily finish a creative design, experimenting with side-scrolling, letterbox inset and frames. Not interested in duplicating this weblog's common vertical scroll, I've resolved at this point to do as I've done for several months and place photographs on the uBlog — so tonight inaugurates category Fotografi. Unless they specifically pertain to a more appropriate topic, all my photography can be found here.

In keeping with practice, captions will be the picture alternate text tag; exceptions where appropriate. A final note of tradition is that I expect most pictures to be meteorological in subject and, of course, from my balcony — but as I noted two weeks ago, the view is bursting with variety, not least the ever-changing weather up above. On that, a woman at my company's favorite printer told me yesterday of a pair of brothers she knows who share my love of the sky, setting up lawn chairs to watch the approach of any shapely clouds — from puffs of cumulus to musclebound thunderstorms. Especially thunderstorms. The two will stay outside while the rain, wind and lightning strikes; neighbors, she laughed, stopped listening or watching for weather reports when they realized they had observers just a door down.

I applaud their courage as I'll make sure to place a roof between me and the rumbling leviathans, I told her. "There's always a little voice in my head," I laughed, "saying, 'You know, it's just going to be one heck of a silly obituary. Get inside.'"