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Photos from my project, Photo-a-day 365  Day 1: Mother of Thousands, native to Madagascar. Making thousands of plantlets in my windowsill.  Day 2: Full moon with icy branches.  Day 3: Roots in red glass jar.  Day 4: Neon Fairy - I debated whether I should include my photoshopped fauxtography in this set, and decided it was ok. Technically, I didn't take this photo today, but I finished editing it today...  Day 5: :)  Day 6: Mimosa Seed pod  Day 7: Two Tone  Day 8: Ganesh and Yoda, chillin'  Day 9: A Skeleton named Sadie  Day 10: Spoonscape Abstract  Day 11: Emanda Galatea and the space mantis - family portrait  Day 12: Lunchtime Reflections “Did you ever wonder if the person in the puddle is real, and you're just a reflection of him?” ― Bill Watterson  Day 13: Raindrops on Pond Rain is grace; rain is the sky descending to the earth; without rain, there would be no life. -John Updike  Day 14: Grape  Day 15: Picasso Faces in candle cup The artist is a receptacle for emotions that come from all over the place: from the sky, from the earth, from a scrap of paper, from a passing shape, from a spider's web. - Pablo Picasso  Day 16: First blossom "Earth laughs in flowers" - Emerson While, realistically, this probably means bad news for my cherries, I was happy to find this bloom in my yard today - Spring showing its face around the corner...  Day 17: Emanda Galatea and the Tree Snail  Day 18: Oil Slick Yes, dirty dishes can be oh, so pretty - and what do I do with them? Take pictures, of course. Only managed to dip my lens in a couple of times...  Day 19: The owl with the heart-shaped face “It is just my imagination that flies, While she is wrapped up in her bedsheets like a nest.” ― Kiera Woodhull, Chaos of the Mind I found this today, just the perfect half - and it didn't belong to any of the surrounding trees. Does anyone know from what tree this casing would come? (Note: I was told this is a type of black walnut, a "heartnut" :) )  Day 20: “We ate the birds. We ate them. We wanted their songs to flow up through our throats and burst out of our mouths, and so we ate them. We wanted their feathers to bud from our flesh. We wanted their wings, we wanted to fly as they did, soar freely among the treetops and the clouds, and so we ate them. We speared them, we clubbed them, we tangled their feet in glue, we netted them, we spitted them, we threw them onto hot coals, and all for love, because we loved them. We wanted to be one with them. We wanted to hatch out of clean, smooth, beautiful eggs, as they did, back when we were young and agile and innocent of cause and effect, we did not want the mess of being born, and so we crammed the birds into our gullets, feathers and all, but it was no use, we couldn’t sing, not effortlessly as they do, we can’t fly, not without smoke and metal, and as for the eggs we don’t stand a chance. We’re mired in gravity, we’re earthbound. We’re ankle-deep in blood, and all because we ate the birds, we ate them a long time ago, when we still had the power to say no.” ― Margaret Atwood I took this photo in my back yard, the bird perched on the wires connecting my home to the grid. Afterwards, I made the image b+w and applied some filters, to give it this sketched effect. Rather dark and lovely...  Day 21: Light gives of itself freely, filling all available space. It does not seek anything in return; it asks not whether you are friend or foe. It gives of itself and is not thereby diminished. ~Michael Strassfeld  Day 22: The Lament of the Windswept Butterfly I found this little bewildered creature hiding from the wind near my mailbox today. Quite appropriate coloring for the day, green (ish).  Day 23: On the Swings “Once I spoke the language of the flowers, Once I understood each word the caterpillar said, Once I smiled in secret at the gossip of the starlings, And shared a conversation with the housefly in my bed. Once I heard and answered all the questions of the crickets, And joined the crying of each falling dying flake of snow, Once I spoke the language of the flowers. . . . How did it go? How did it go?” ― Shel Silverstein, Where the Sidewalk Ends  Day 24: 8 Months Mug Shot  Day 25: Tulip Fairy “You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep Spring from coming.” ― Pablo Neruda; Happy spring :) Figured I'd make a tulip fairy fauxto to commemorate the tulips blooming in the yard.  Day 26: Milkweed Seed Pod The light played with the veins and the slightly translucent skin of the seed pod ever so nicely.  Day 27: Luckless Lizard
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The Moon Garden lies across the river Yamuna from the Taj Mahal. It was the site where the Black Taj Mahal was to be built, to house the king after he died. Two monuments identical except for the color – white marble for the beloved queen, black for the king.    Feet self portrait at the foundation of the Black Taj Mahal. In the Moon Garden, Agra. Even the foundation was a work of art; the project was abandoned due to the high cost – the king’s son had his father imprisoned, his only solace the view of the Taj Mahal, the resting place of his queen, through a window in his cell.  India left me full of amazement. The stark contrast of beauty built into every corner alongside the shockingly poor – it gives you appreciation for what you have.
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