"What is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?'  Mary Oliver

 That question has been with me long before I had heard of the poet Mary Oliver or dared to picture myself on  daring adventures to faraway lands.  I couldn't have imagined then, that a ten day trip to Rwanda would be in my future.  In a little over a week, I will be visiting villages, making new friends and trying to uncover the plans waiting to be revealed for more than one African schoolgirl like my little friend above. 

 I'll be taking not one camera, but two.  One for me, and one for my host.  Of all the things he could ask me to bring, he's wishing for a camera more than anything.   He has an artist's eye, my friend tells me.  He knows how to see things.

 I hope I'll know how to see things, too, when I finally arrive.  I don't know if I'll have the luxury of waiting for late afternoon to capture my subjects in the best light.  I don't know if the sun will work against me in a place not too far from the equator.  I'm still such a new photographer that I'm still learning how to see the shot when the sun is shining bright.

 Do you have one capture in particular that really shines in bright light?  What are your best tips for taking photographs under these kinds of conditions?  Bring them one and all--I'll be taking notes.  I don't want to miss the moments that are waiting for me in what is sure to be a wild and precious chapter in my life. 

When we bought our home a year ago, one of the characteristics we loved was the mature landscaping around the house -- not because we're such amazing gardeners, you understand, but quite the opposite: we figured that the longer the plant had actually lived, the less likely we were to kill it.  Sad, but true:  I know nothing about plants.

Anyway, spring has sprung, so yesterday I grabbed my camera and my 60mm AF Micro Nikkor lens, to see what I could find.  The garden didn't disappoint:  there were lots of buds and slowly unfurling flowers.  But I found the blossom above particularly striking:  because of Love Thursday I find myself intrigued by hearts that occur in nature, and to me this flower looked like it had three tiny hearts, each surrounded by a golden halo.  So I took the shot.

Besides, I loved the teensy little grasshopper on the petal. 

Happy Love Thursday, all.  Please leave your links of love in the comments below, and for inspiration, check out the really cool hearts-in-nature captured by work2snap and cherryvanillastudios and shared in the Shutter Sisters Flickr Pool.

And may you see symbols of love all around you today.

This post is along the same lines as Tracy's yesterday, when she was talking about obsession. I think artists are especially interesting because the evolution of their life is out there for everyone to see. When I look back at my earlier work, with the perspective I have now, it seems like a whole different world. Buttoned up, and posed, and trying hard to be"perfect". My portraiture was an extension of how I lived my life, which was very aware of the critique. Then it started to get exhausting. There wasn't a turning point moment. Just the fact that lately I haven't been editing as much as I used to...in life or in photography. I'm not as afraid to show the messy bits...like the ones where mom is leaning in to fix her daughter's hair; or the ones that are so out of focus, they turn into impressions. People can make up their own minds. Either way I feel the same about my work, and about myself. I feel like I've begun to let go of the illusion of control. And my photographs (and I) are a teensy bit more free these days. What about you? Do you have any shots that make you feel this way?

Am I the only one that goes through phases—or maybe more appropriately, obsessions—in my photographic inclinations? A particular angle of interest, recurring subject matter or tiny detail of something specific that for one reason or another draws you in and urges you to recognize them? I’ve been in and out of different phases like this ever since I really got into photography. Some of my past focal fixations have included grain, blur, and toys. And don’t get me started on my passion for the blossoms and blooms that have not only piqued my interest but have held me and my camera captive for the last few months.

When it comes to capturing images of the details of my children, obsession is a mild term. With each passing day there seems to be something perfectly endearing to turn my camera toward. Right now, I’m all about my youngest daughter’s hair—her straggly, stringy, swishing, swooping, swinging hair. I am spellbound by the way it frames her face, wispy blonde strands getting caught up in her dark lashes, brushing her flushed cheeks. My urchin princess. I even cut it myself for fear some insensitive hair dresser might rob me of my photo fetish. See. I told you. I'm obsessed.

And you? I’m curious as to what you have been unable to keep your lens away from. Do you have a photo flavor of the month? Come on, show us your obsessions—we’re all friends here.

Sarah Jessica Parker has said of the characters in Sex and the City: There’s not just the four of us girls. There’s a fifth, and she’s New York City, and she sparkles.

Here, there’s not just the one subject—a boy, for his first birthday—there are two. The boy and the light.

A photo is a snapshot when light is absent—there, obviously, but not playing an active role. That’s alright sometimes. For when you grab the camera to snap cookie dough on a cheek, candles on a cake.

For me, snapshots become more conscious when that special sort of light plays to my favour by chance—inches from a windowpane on a cloudy day, all diffused and wistful, or a burst of beloved flare that bounces off the water, glowing like some watchful spirit.

Specialness in light can be summoned, too, by calling it on stage: tracks on the kitchen ceiling, for instance, thrown out of focus for just what I wanted—the feel of a vintage wonder wheel, a circus, stars for my birthday boy and his spirit-brother.

I need it today. Show me light that’s conscious and manipulated, or discovered by chance, featured as that sparkling ‘fifth character’. Send some my way, will you?