Noticing

Evelyn: I have seen these flowers a billion times, but I can't help but stop and drink in the profoundly intricate way in which these flowers are built. They do not stay open all day, rather spreading themselves out in the sunlight, then curling back together at dusk. They are delicate and colorful—with a blend of purples and yellows against their leathery white petals. It isn't until I have the macro that I REALLY see the layers that make them so intriguing. The Art of Noticing—noticing on my way out the door from an appointment, noticing on my walk with the dog, noticing when standing for a moment digging in my photo-bag. This is what I love about my commitment to daily photographs: at least something gets noticed each day for it's beauty or difference or its ability to catch me in a moment and make me breathe.

Monica: It's been well over a week since I've put on my hiking boots and walked to the State Reserve across the way. We've had a good spell of rainy days and, to be honest, I've been terrified of spending any length of time outdoors now that I've noticed flowers blooming in force. I cringe to remember the horrible allergies that plagued me for nearly five months last year. (It didn't help that I spent a lot of time with my camera lens—and my face—just inches from grasses and flowers hurling their invisible pollens at me with every gust of wind.) Today, I took advantage of a lull in the downpour to walk down to the bluffs. Jug Handle Creek had risen considerably and was flowing fast to the turbulent sea. The muddy brown creek water mixing with the blue-gray sea reminded me of China, and how the jade green of the Wu melded with the muddier brown of the Yangtze at the confluence of the two rivers. I thought about the Wu becoming the Yangtze, and the Yangtze flowing into the Pacific, and the Pacific surging to meet Jug Handle Creek below my feet. Every place I have ever been or dreamed of going is contained in this water.