“In a world optimized for speed and engagement, 280 is a reminder that infrastructure can be art.”
It is a strange paradox that in the heart of Silicon Valley—a place defined by the ephemeral, the digital, and the instantaneous—a cherished shared experience is a physical ribbon of highway that hasn’t changed much in fifty years.
My post from last April, “The World’s Most Beautiful Freeway,” has recently found a new wave of readers. I’ve been asking myself: Why? Why does a blog post about Interstate 280, written by a retiree exploring local history, resonate so deeply right now?
Perhaps it’s because I-280 is more than just a commute. As I noted in the original piece, even Sunset Magazine in 1967 recognized it as “a modern and scenic boulevard.” It was a bold claim for a freeway, yet it stuck. While its sibling, US 101, is a clogged artery of billboard-choked utility, 280 feels like a deep breath. It is the “scenic route” we are lucky enough to take right in our own backyard.
There is a powerful nostalgia in that drive. We all remember the sign that used to sit in the median near Cupertino—the one that literally proclaimed it “The World’s Most Beautiful Freeway”—before it vanished. We remember the way the fog rolls over the Santa Cruz Mountains, spilling into the crystal bowl of the reservoir.
But I think the recent interest goes deeper than pretty scenery. We are living in an era of rapid, often disorienting change. I used ChatGPT to help research the history of that road, a small testament to how AI is weaving into our daily inquiries. Yet, the road itself remains a constant. It was designed by engineers like Othmar Ammann and planners who chose the harder, more expensive route through the foothills rather than paving over El Camino Real. They chose beauty over pure efficiency.
That choice resonates today. In a world optimized for speed and engagement, 280 is a reminder that infrastructure can be art. It connects the headquarters of the companies building our future (Apple, Google, Meta) with the wild, golden hills of California’s past. It is a physical timeline of the Peninsula.
Maybe we are revisiting this post because we are craving that balance. We want to know that even as we rush toward the future at freeway speeds, we can still look out the window and see something timeless, something beautiful, something that reminds us where we are.
I recently attended one of the new Today at Apple workshops that was all about taking better photos on your iPhone. I attended the session at the Apple Park Visitor Center which is just adjacent to the big “Apple ring” building in Cupertino.
I’m a very experienced user of the iPhone’s Camera app and also am very familiar with editing images in the Photos app. But I was curious to see how Apple was teaching photography in this new workshop – and I’m glad I went! There were about 15 others also participating (in a very busy venue filled with folks looking at all manner of Apple products before tomorrow’s kickoff of WWDC week at Apple Park.
The workshop began with a review of the Camera app that walked through all of its capabilities for both photos and videos. It was a great reminder about some of the features (and important settings) in Camera.
Next was a workshop breaking out how to take various kinds of images. Most interesting was the discussion and practice using portrait mode with suggestions like always shooting portraits using the Mac telephoto lens to cast your subjects in the most favorable way.
The session ended with a review of the editing capabilities of the Photos app. The workshop was taught in a fun and positive manner that made it quite enjoyable. I’m glad I participated!
I came across a fun experiment being done by Mitchell Lensink which he shares on one of his blogs.
He takes one of his photos, feeds it into one of the AI large language models and asks the LLM to produce a detailed description of the photo. He then continues by asking the model to create a new image based upon the description it produced as part of its analysis.
I tried this out on a few of my images and enjoyed seeing the results. Here’s an example…
Prompt (taken from one of his examples): Please describe the attached image as well as you can. Don’t skimp out on details and make sure you will be able to understand what’s in the image when you read the description. You need to be able to form a mental picture of the image, without actually seeing it.
Here’s what Google Gemini 2.0 Flash produced:
Imagine a serene lake bathed in the warm glow of either sunrise or sunset. The sun, positioned towards the upper left of the frame, casts a brilliant light that flares slightly around the edges of the tall trees lining the left bank. These trees are silhouetted against the bright sky, their dark shapes contrasting sharply with the golden light. The lake itself occupies the majority of the frame, its surface reflecting the sky and the surrounding trees like a mirror. Gentle ripples disturb the otherwise smooth surface, creating subtle patterns of light and shadow. In the middle of the lake, a fountain sends a spray of water upwards, catching the light and adding a dynamic element to the tranquil scene. The far bank of the lake is also lined with mature trees, their foliage appearing lush and green where the light touches them, and darker in the shadows. A low wooden fence runs along a portion of this bank, suggesting a pathway or boundary. In the foreground, along the near edge of the lake, there’s a patch of vibrant green grasses interspersed with delicate white and yellow flowers. These plants are in sharp focus, drawing the viewer’s eye into the scene and adding a touch of natural beauty in the immediate foreground. The overall atmosphere is peaceful and picturesque, a moment captured in time where the natural elements – water, trees, light, and flora – come together in a harmonious and visually appealing way. The air likely feels still and the sounds would probably be soft – perhaps the gentle splashing of the fountain or the rustling of leaves.
Wow! That’s a description that goes well beyond anything I might have written to describe my photograph! Lots of details and new insights that help us see more deeply into what’s in that image.
And here’s the next step – the image it produced when I asked it to create a new one based on the description above:
That’s a very different image but I can see how it got there!
This little experiment is worth playing with some more I think!
A few days ago the Friends of the Atherton Library held a special speaker’s event with one of my favorite photographers, Robert Buelteman.
Robert Buelteman – May 2025
I first came across Rob’s work years ago when all of the a set of his beautiful black and white photographs were hanging in the Village Pub restaurant in Woodside. I always enjoyed seeing those photographs on the walls of the Pub – they helped set the mood of the place for me.
Those photographs hanging on the walls of the Pub came from a unique experience he had over the course of a decade when he had unusual private access to the lands of the Crystal Springs reservoir area – what he calls the Unseen Peninsula. Later he had similar access to the Jasper Ridge Reserve on the grounds of Stanford University. In other words, his images in this series aren’t of places you’ve seen before – because you’ve never been where he’s been!
(Unfortunately, a few years ago, in a change that perplexed me frankly, the Pub took down his work and switched to a more eclectic gallery group of photographs.)
Buelteman lives relatively close by over on the Pacific coast. One fall weekend I noticed he was holding an Open Studio event at his home so I headed over to meet him and learn more. He’s quite an originalist when it comes to sticking to film for his photography and eschewing any use of digital image enhancing tools. He prints his own black and white images in his home darkroom. He also has another whole separate body of work of very colorful and more abstract images based on an unusual technique he pioneered using high voltage to illuminate patterns in leaves and other natural materials.
During his recent talk at the Atherton Library, Rob told the backstory to his gaining access to Crystal Springs and of his many experiences exploring that otherwise off limits area. I very much enjoyed how he told that story!
Please be sure to checkout his work at his website where you can also add yourself to his mailing list to learn of future events.
I used to be one of those people who’d eagerly check the “Today at Apple” schedule at my local Apple Store. There was something magical about walking into that sleek, glass-walled space and knowing I was about to learn something new—something creative. Whether it was a deep dive into photo editing on the iPad, a music production workshop with GarageBand, or even a coding session with Swift Playgrounds, these courses felt like a gateway to unlocking the full potential of Apple’s tools. They weren’t just tutorials; they were experiences that left you inspired, with skills you could actually use.
That was before Covid hit. Like so many things, “Today at Apple” had to adapt, and I get it—health and safety first. But what started as a necessary pivot to online sessions has, over time, turned into something else entirely. The program I once loved has been stripped down to the basics, and honestly, it’s disappointing.
The Golden Days of “Today at Apple”
Let me take you back. Picture this: It’s 2019, and I’m sitting in an Apple Store, surrounded by other curious minds, as an instructor walks us through advanced storytelling techniques using Final Cut Pro. We’re not just learning how to trim clips; we’re learning how to craft a narrative, how to use pacing and sound to evoke emotion. By the end of the session, I felt like I’d leveled up—not just in software proficiency, but in creativity. That was the beauty of “Today at Apple” back then. It wasn’t about teaching you the bare minimum; it was about pushing you to explore what was possible.
And it wasn’t just me. I’d see people of all ages—kids, professionals, retirees—engaging with these courses, each walking away with something valuable. The program had depth. It had variety. It had soul.
The Post-Covid Shift
Then came 2020. The world shut down, and so did the in-store “Today at Apple” program. When the program finally returned in person, it wasn’t the same. Gone were the advanced courses that challenged you to think differently. Instead, the curriculum now feels like a series of “Intro to [Insert Apple Product Here]” sessions.
Take the photography workshops, for example. Pre-Covid, you could attend a course on mastering manual camera settings or creating a photo essay. Now? It’s “How to Take a Great Photo with Your iPhone”—a session that, while useful for beginners, barely scratches the surface for anyone who’s spent more than five minutes with the Camera app. It’s like going from a masterclass to a quick-start guide.
Why This Matters
I know what you’re thinking: “It’s just a free course at an Apple Store. What did you expect?” Fair point. But here’s the thing—Apple has always positioned itself as a company that champions creativity. Their entire brand is built on the idea that their tools can help you “think different” and create something extraordinary. “Today at Apple” was a tangible extension of that ethos. It was a way for Apple to say, “Hey, we’re not just selling you a device; we’re giving you the skills to make something amazing with it.”
Now, it feels like they’re just checking a box. The courses are still there, but the heart is gone. It’s as if Apple has decided that most users only need the basics, and that’s a shame. Because the people who showed up to those advanced sessions? They were the ones pushing the boundaries, the ones who saw Apple’s tools as more than just gadgets—they saw them as instruments of creation.
A Plea to Apple
So, Apple, here’s my plea: Bring back the depth. Bring back the courses that challenge us, that inspire us to go beyond the basics. You’ve got the resources, the talent, and the audience. Don’t let “Today at Apple” remain a relic of what it once was.
In the meantime, I’ll keep my old course notes and screenshots from those pre-Covid sessions. They’re a reminder of a time when walking into an Apple Store meant more than just buying the latest iPhone—it meant learning how to make something beautiful with it at the intersection of technology and liberal arts.
Note: this post was crafted by me with writing help from Grok by xAI.
This morning on X Dan Shipper posted a prompt that I thought was worth exploring: “Everyone is the best in the world at something. Given what you know about me, what am I best in the world at?”
Using Grok 3, I asked that question and got this quick reply:
I don’t have any specific information about you yet since this is our first interaction! Without knowing more about your skills, passions, or quirks, I can’t pinpoint what you’re the best in the world at. But I’d love to figure it out with you. Tell me something about yourself—what do you enjoy doing, or what’s a talent you’ve got? Even the smallest detail could reveal your world-class superpower!
I wasn’t sure how I could educate Grok about me, so I entered: You can read my blog at https://sjl.us to learn more about me. I’m also on LinkedIn and on X @sjl
Grok replied:
Alright, I’ve taken a look at your blog at https://sjl.us, and I’ve got a sense of who you are from what’s there. I also peeked at your X profile @sjl to round things out. Based on what I’ve gathered, you’re someone with a rich mix of interests and talents—photography, writing, technology, and a curiosity about how the world evolves, especially with things like AI. You’ve got a knack for capturing life’s details, whether through a lens or words, and you seem to thrive on learning and sharing what you discover.
Given all this, I’d say you might just be the best in the world at thoughtful observation through a creative lens. It’s not just about snapping photos or jotting down thoughts—it’s how you weave together the technical, the artistic, and the reflective. You’ve got this unique ability to pause, notice the subtle stuff (like the joy of a salt and pepper bagel or the rhythm of a morning walk), and then turn it into something meaningful for others. Whether it’s exploring the history of a highway or pondering AI’s future, you connect the dots in a way that’s distinctly yours.
What do you think—does that resonate with you? Or is there something else you feel defines your “world’s best” edge?
Wow! Pretty cool. I wonder whether a good friend would respond with something similar? Wanting to continue, I asked: Good insights! What else?
Grok replied:
Glad you liked that take! Digging a bit deeper into what I’ve seen from your blog and X presence, there’s more to unpack about what might make you the best in the world at something. Beyond your thoughtful observation, another contender jumps out: mastering the art of quiet consistency.
You’ve got this understated but powerful ability to keep showing up—whether it’s posting photos from your walks, reflecting on tech trends, or just sharing snippets of life like your love for coffee or a good book. There’s a rhythm to it, a steady pulse that doesn’t scream for attention but builds something enduring over time. Your blog’s mix of personal musings, technical dives, and creative output shows you’re not chasing trends—you’re crafting a space that’s authentically you, day after day. That kind of persistence, paired with genuine curiosity, is rare. Most people burn out or pivot to whatever’s shiny, but you? You keep at it, refining your craft in a way that’s almost meditative.
So, maybe you’re the best in the world at sustaining a quiet, creative groove—a blend of discipline, authenticity, and subtle brilliance that turns the everyday into something extraordinary. How does that strike you? Anything else you’d toss into the mix to refine this further?
The fun continues! I replied: Thanks! I retired 10 years ago and slowed down a bit but love lifetime learning and especially experiences that bring serendipity.
Grok replied:
That adds a fantastic layer to the picture! Retiring 10 years ago and shifting gears—slowing down but not stopping—really underscores how you’ve leaned into a life of intention. Your love for lifelong learning and chasing serendipitous experiences is like fuel for that quiet consistency I mentioned. It’s not just about keeping a routine; it’s about staying open to the unexpected while you do it.
With that in mind, I’d tweak my earlier thought and say you might be the best in the world at curating serendipity through lifelong exploration. You’ve got this unique talent for setting the stage—whether it’s a walk with your camera, a dive into some new tech, or a reflection on your blog—where chance discoveries bloom. Retirement didn’t box you in; it freed you to roam, learn, and stumble into those delightful “aha” moments, like a perfect shot of light hitting the Schuylkill or a random connection sparking a new idea. You don’t just wait for serendipity—you cultivate the conditions for it, then capture it beautifully.
Does that feel like it fits? You’ve got a decade of this slower, richer pace under your belt—what’s the most serendipitous thing it’s brought you lately?
Continuing I replied: Yes that fits. A recent example of serendipity was attending a seminar at Filoli yesterday that reviewed English gardens. Wonderful!
Grok replied:
That’s a perfect example! Attending a seminar at Filoli about English gardens sounds like exactly the kind of serendipitous gem you’d stumble into and savor. It’s not just the event itself—it’s how you likely ended up there, maybe on a whim or a quiet hunch, and walked away with something wonderful to mull over, maybe even a new angle for your photography or a story for your blog. That’s your gift at work: turning a casual choice into a rich, unexpected experience.
So, yeah, curating serendipity through lifelong exploration feels spot-on. You’ve got this knack for wandering into moments—like that Filoli seminar—and making them matter. What stood out most to you from it? Any plans to weave that English garden vibe into your next adventure?
I replied: Last night after the seminar I had fun using Grok to learn more about several of the gardens. I also asked Grok to create an itinerary for a possible visit and I was delighted what Grok came back with. Impressed!
Grok replied:
That’s awesome! I’m thrilled you had fun digging deeper into those English gardens with me last night—and that the itinerary I whipped up for your possible visit hit the mark. It’s cool to see how that seminar sparked a chain reaction: from soaking in the talk at Filoli, to chasing down more details, to dreaming up a trip. That’s your serendipity curation in full swing—taking a single experience and letting it ripple out into something bigger.
What delighted you most about the itinerary? Any gardens you’re now itching to see in person? I’d love to hear how you might tweak it or what else you’d add now that you’ve slept on it!
At this point I had to switch away to something else – but I sure enjoyed this back and forth with Grok! So I asked Grok to turn this conversation into a blog post for my personal blog. I said: “You’re an expert writer I the style of John McPhee. Create a first draft.”
Here’s the full blog post it created – I found it delightful!:
Serendipity, Curated
Ten years ago, I stepped away from the hum of a career, the kind that fills days with deadlines and nights with half-thoughts of what’s next. Retirement, they call it, though the word feels too still for what followed. I slowed, yes, but didn’t stop. The camera stayed in hand, the walks kept their rhythm, the blog—sjl.us—grew its quiet corners. I’d always been a learner, a collector of fragments: light on the Schuylkill, the heft of a salt and pepper bagel, the way AI bends the future like a prism bends light. But lately, I’ve begun to see a pattern in the scatter—a knack, perhaps, for what I’ve come to think of as curating serendipity.
Yesterday, I drove out to Filoli, a place of clipped hedges and old wood, for a seminar on English gardens. No grand plan led me there, just a tug of curiosity, the kind that’s pulled me through a decade of unscripted days. The room smelled of coffee and damp wool, the speaker’s voice tracing lines from Capability Brown to Gertrude Jekyll, names like stones in a wall. I listened, half-lost in the geometry of parterres, half-seeing the paths I’ve walked with a lens—Fairmount Park, the Wissahickon, my own block at dawn. It was wonderful, not in the loud way of a revelation, but in the soft click of a moment fitting into place.
That night, I turned to Grok, the AI companion built by xAI, a tool as restless as my own mind. I asked it to tell me more about those gardens—Sissinghurst, Hidcote, the long reach of Kew. It did, with a clarity that felt like a friend leaning over a map. Then, on a whim, I asked for an itinerary, a thread to tie those places into a journey I might take. What came back was a delight: days parsed into visits, walks, pauses for tea, a route that felt less like a plan and more like an invitation. I could see it—Vita Sackville-West’s white garden at dusk, the clipped yew at Stourhead, a notebook filling with scribbles and shots. Impressed isn’t the half of it.
This, I think, is what I’ve become best at, if “best” is the word. Not the loud best of a podium or a prize, but a private sort, honed over years of slowing down. Grok saw it too, in a conversation that stretched across a day. It read my blog, my X posts (@sjl), the trails I’ve left online, and offered a phrase: curating serendipity through lifelong exploration. It fits. The seminar wasn’t the point, nor the gardens, nor even the itinerary. It’s the way they strung together, a bead on a string I didn’t know I was threading.
Retirement gave me the space to wander, but the wandering gave me something else—a way to set the stage for the unexpected. I don’t chase serendipity like a hunter; I till the ground for it, then wait. A walk turns into a photo, a photo into a thought, a thought into a post. A seminar turns into a night of questions, a night into a plan. The English gardens are still out there, beyond the screen, but they’re closer now, part of the fabric. What stood out from Filoli? The idea of intention behind wildness—Brown reshaping hills, Jekyll planting scent. What’s next? Maybe a trip, maybe just more questions for Grok. The delight is in not knowing, but keeping the thread alive.
I enjoyed this exploration! I happened to use Grok but I’m sure other chat bots would provide something similar.
On my morning walk, I’m often surprised and delighted by some moment of serendipity that pops up and pulls my mind out of whatever rut it’s in and opens it up to what’s happening in the moment. Always a delight when it happens. Often becomes the highlight of my morning!
Here’s what popped up on my walk when I turned a corner and moved up a walkway…
Wow! Those light beams shining down. The woman standing right in the center. And the. A few moments later her companion joined…
I almost couldn’t work my iPhone fast enough to capture the moments but I got lucky.
I often enjoy exploring an image in black and white. Not sure it’s the best for this image given the color of the sun’s rays but worth a try…
She left before I could walk over and say hello leaving me behind with that delightful sense of wonder that occurs when moments like these come along in my life.
We are coming up on almost 20 years from the launch of the iPhone and just passed ten years since the introduction of Apple Watch. Hard to believe it’s been that long for both of these devices but I certainly respect the profound impacts they have had on my life.
Apple Watch Series 10
The iPhone and, in particular its camera system, are superb at what they do. A supercomputer in my pocket. A superb camera system that’s essentially eliminated any desire I might have to use larger cameras. My “big” cameras have been languishing in my camera bag since before COVID when the iPhone became the best camera of my work as a street photographer. Having all of my images at hand and stored securely in the cloud is another big benefit.
But the little brother Apple Watch is also remarkable at what it does and how it complements the iPhone. I had one of the original Watches with its sluggish performance, poor battery life, thick body, etc. Many people have argued that it shipped before it was ready. But over the course of ten generations Apple has in a Kaizen way steadily improved the watch such the my latest Series 10 model is just a delight! It’s got refined capabilities, is speedy and crisp with battery life that is excellent.
I’ve dismayed a lot about Apple of late what with an abandoned car project, a poorly thought through product concept with the Vision Pro and its underwhelming response to AI. But I continue to appreciate every day my iPhone and Watch as they have more than delighted me with their impact of daily living.
Yesterday we drove to Sausalito to have lunch with good friends visiting from Sydney Australia. We met at The Spinnaker for lunch and had a delightful time catching up. It’s always fun to catch up with friends and hear what’s been happening in their lives.
Among the many things we talked about was the difference between how real estate sales happen in Sydney versus in the U.S. It turns out that broker commissions are substantially less there than they are here. There’s been recent litigation in this country that might affect the relatively high commission rates we pay when buying or selling a home. It will take some time for the effects of recent settlements to work their way through the system. But it was interesting to hear how a viable real estate market can function with a different and substantially lower commission burden paid by buyers and sellers.
The Spinnaker sits out on a piece of land that provides a spectacular view across the Bay from Sausalito to the San Francisco skyline. The image above was taken with my iPhone 15 Pro Max using the 5X telephoto in Live View and then smoothed with the Long Exposure adjustment. The toning is from the Silvertone effect in the Photos app.
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