Monica: The more I pay attention, the more astounded I am by how quickly things grow and change. Where just the other day there were only bare branches, today a dozen enormous tulip magnolias have bloomed into being. Spring is the time of reproduction, of delicate green shoots sprouting up out of the earth, of babies being born, of growing light. Each day grows greener and brighter and more fragrant than the last.
Evelyn: Ah... the disappointment. All I can say is that I could not reproduce what I originally had intended for my picture of the day. I spent the morning looking for insects or creatures reproducing in the spring filled air, hoping for dragonflies to land interconnected before my camera. The day moved on without a hint, joining me in my isolated business of "doing" the lists. Later, sweaty and tired from running at the gym, I emerged to find a spectacular light show... the sun slowly making his descent and rays popping and bursting around crackles of light between the storm clouds—brilliant like golden lava, and I grabbed my camera, taking shots like a photographer with a particularly stunning model... "A little left, yeah... yeah... work it honey, show me some muscle!" I got home an hour later, opened the door to my SD card on the camera, and found there wasn't a card. I had forgotten to adjust the setting that stops me from shooting images without a card. Dejection set in, and apathy, and a loss of all enthusiasm. I grabbed a reproduction of an apple that had been gifted to me 19 years ago in my elementary school classroom, propped it on the table, and took pictures. To make things worse, at 11 p.m., I discovered I had only taken horizontals on a vertical day, and shut the lid of my laptop to worry about cropping my images the next morning. Boo.
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