Seeing the World Secondhand I've been in love with photography since I was a preteen, about a million years ago in rural Mississippi where there was very little opportunity to do anything about the passion. I did what I could, using first a Brownie, then a little Instamatic to take pictures of everything from posed Barbie dolls to cotton field sunsets. Since money wasn't exactly flowing like a river, sometimes the film never even got developed. But still, I loved see the world through the camera lens, secondhand. Still do.

Quality of Light The quality of light has been one of my loves for as long as I can remember. I've been known to wheel a car off the road to a complete stop just to admire a certain quality of light, generally one that comes in early morning or late afternoon. Pre- and post-thunderstorm light can also be heart-thunderingly beautiful. I remember the first time I fell in love with Emily Dickinson was when I read the line "There is a certain slant of light," and I thought, "Yes! Somebody else who understands!" To this day I can never remember the rest of that poem, but I love that line. There is a certain slant of light. Indeed there is. Anyway, I was wandering a golf course while my husband played and found myself bang up against one of those certain slants of light. I with I knew exactly what sort of plant this is, but I don't. It's not Queen Anne's lace nor goldenrod. But in this light, it's heavenly.

Peaceable Kingdom This unusually peaceful moment (unusual to the point of needing to be recorded for posterity) is brought to you by Frosty and King Harvey Aurelius Alexander Bartleby Jormengard the First. And last, since he's a happy neutered fella. More generally, when these two are this close together, Harvey is trying to eat Frosty, or Frosty is trying to groom Harvey. Apparently they were temporarily possessed by aliens at the time this pic was taken. Then again, maybe it was a voodoo evil trick by their big brother Zippy. Notice he's nowhere around.

Fresh Air Like every American kid of a certain age, at one point I wanted to be a fireman. Of course I couldn't, I was told, because I was a girl. Same answer I got when I wanted to be a preacher, a soldier, a cowboy and anything else interesting I ever wanted. But that's another rant for another day. The fascination with the work of firefighters lingered, although at a bare minimum level, and when I became I reporter I developed enormous respect and admiration for these people. Firefighting is damn hard work, not glamour at all, and potential injury or death is staring right in your headlights all the time. I wouldn't want to be a firefighter now, because I know I'm just not tough enough. But I can admire them from afar.

Puffballs When my brother, who is 13 years younger than me, was young, we called dandelions puffballs. They're a nuisance in a yard sometimes, but what the heck.... they're also pretty, and fun. One year, with help from my teetotaling mother and my little brother, I made a batch of dandelion wine. It wasn't very good as a taste, but it was magic as an elixir of memory. Every time I looked at a bottle, I'd remember perfectly the bright early summer day when we all picked dandelion flowers around my house by the dishpan loads. I remember how bright and warm the sun was, and how my brother and my mom laughed at this crazy notion. I remember the smell of the sugary liquid cooking - it smelled like lemonade. And I remember collapsing, tired but satisfied, onto the couch late at night, having bottled my first (and last, as it turned out) dandelion wine. Ray Bradbury wrote a book about Dandelion Wine in which it was magic. I think I know what he meant. My brother is an adult with a family and responsibilities of his own now, and my mother has been dead to me of Alzheimers for many years. But when I see dandelions, I remember, and I'm carried back to that day. Surely that's the most powerful magic of them all.

Singing the Blues Every April for the past couple of decades, there's been a Railroad Festival in my hometown. It's grown to include every kind of flea market, carnival, car show, food court, arts and crafts display, live entertainment and various other activities you can imagine. This gentleman had staked out some ground in the middle of an intersection and was making a few bucks the old-fashioned way: by playing the blues. It was hot as Hades out there on that concrete, and his blues sounded like he really meant them.

Old Times There ... When I was growing up, Buddy's Department Store was the place to go for shoes and clothes of all kinds in my hometown. Sure, there were a couple of other clothing stores in town - one that catered just to men, and one just to women - but Buddy's had something for everybody. I never owned any clothing from there. My mom made all my clothes, and my underclothes came from the Sears catalog, but a fair number of my shoes came from Buddy's. I used to love going in there. Buddy's and V.J. Elmore Five and Ten Cent Store were my favorite places in town. They both had oiled wooden floors, high ceilings and those big old ceiling fans that turn those lazy whoosh whooshes all through the spring, summer and fall. (Elmore's also had a popcorn machine just inside the front door, but that's a different rapture for a different day.) I used to like to wander around at Buddy's and gingerly touch all the amazing fabrics - satins and silks and even a velvet now and then. I remember distinctly a plaid wool skirt there once that I lusted over for months. Ah, well. Buddy's is gone now, and all that's left is this sign, on the back of the store in the alley. I'm glad it's still there to remind me.

Make Me Pretty Kids and facepainting are one of the great combinations. It's just a natural. This young lady was paying no attention at all to the camera, lost as she was in her own deep concentration. The painter might as well have been Picasso for all the care she was taking with this little girl's face. And when it was all done, the wide grin that provided payback would have lit up a city block.

Tracy T. Dog Roughly twelve years ago, my husband and I decided one day to go to our local animal shelter just to get an idea of what kinds of dogs were available. We had no intention of getting a dog at that point: This was supposed to be a fact-finding visit. Always a mistake. She had just been brought in the day before and sat there like some kind of royalty among the rough and ready peasantry of hounds and retrievers and yapping terriers. When we greeted her, she came over politely but not overly eagerly, although that flag of a tail was wagging so hard it nearly knocked her over. What can I say? It was love at first sight. Within a half-hour, we were on our way home with a roughly six-month-old mixed-breed bitch, and she has ruled my heart ever since.

A Kindly Eye I love horses. Let's just get that out of the way first, as it'll make explaining all the horse pictures I take a lot easier. This lovely chestnut was grazing in a summer pasture on the side of a two-lane highway, along with a gray, a dun and a couple of bays. She was an absolute beauty and as I got closer, she studied me without an iota of fear. All horses tend to have gentle eyes, except for those who've been mistreated, but hers just really struck me. I'd guess she's an absolute pleasure to ride and work with. Wish I'd gotten more of an introduction.

Blue Angel All the time that a ceremony was being held at the new cemetery, a storm had been gathering. Ladies held on to their hats and bright-colored ties whipped across men's shoulders. The rain held off until after the service, when the crowd had rushed into a nearby fellowship hall for refreshments and noisy conversation. This angel, though, simply waited. The beauty of her sweet pale newness against the ominous gathering of dark blue clouds was just irresistible. I ended up using this as my desktop image for a long time.

Winter's Morn This shot was taken at about 7:30 or 8:00 a.m. one day in midwinter. I don't recall the precise month, but I'd guess January or February. I was on my way to work when early sunlight hit a spray of frost-encrusted pampas grass and I thought I'd fallen into Faerie for a few moments. The photo doesn't catch the full magic - the hundreds of tiny rainbows flashing from the icy stalks - but it's caught enough to help me remember. I like that. And I've always loved those winter skies that gorgeous blue.

Aftermath Small-town firefighters have a job no less difficult than their big city brothers. For many years, I worked in small town newspapering, which included covering far too many fires, wrecks, storms and other disasters. I learned an enormous amount of respect for the men and women who put their lives right out there in harm's way in order to help others. This particular photo was shot after the fire was under control but before any of the cleanup had begun. I just liked the sense of quiet exhaustion.

Bitterweed As a country kid, I learned early on to recognize the bitterweed, because there was a sort of standing order to pull it whenever you saw one in a cow pasture. It wasn't an irrational request: Trust me, you don't want to taste the milk of a cow that's been eating bitterweed. ::shudder:: Still, I always thought the little flowers were pretty, and they're so boldly tenacious they'll grow anywhere. It's hard not to respect that, even if it is a bitter taste.

Berries Many of my earliest photos were of nature, and I still love nature photography with a passion. There's just something supremely satisfying about seeing the small details that most people miss in their hurried lives, then capturing those details and preserving them forever. These are nandina berries. The nandina bush is called "Heavenly Bamboo" in Asian countries, but I always knew it as nandina growing up. It's a great favorite in the south, in part because it's hardy and easy to grow, but also because it has that wonderful red berry color in the dead of winter.

Green Dreams I lived for a long two and a half years in California, and spent the whole time in an increasing longing for the color green. California is the brownest place I'd ever lived, and after a while the need for green became almost a physical ache. On a trip home to the southland, I took this autumn photo, which turned out to capture much that I love about autumn in the south. All the leaf colors are there, yes, but there's also still a world of green. This has been manipulated in Photoshop, but not the colors. They really are this gorgeous.

Ren Faire Robber One of the years in California, my daughter wanted to go as a thief in disguise to an annual Rennaisance Faire. So what the hey; we made her a princess costume and she was a highwayman. We're kinda weird in our family. But I loved these pictures. I had a pretty girl in a nice costume with a good background and excellent lighting: It's hard to go wrong, under the circumstances.