|red berries at dusk|
At the bus hub, waiting for my transfer, I worried that I hadn't found a picture for today. I started walking around the station, crouching low to try to capture the ice melting along the sidewalks. I framed the broken clock tower, studied the sky and the fading light. The moon was beautiful, but small in my lens. I was, in other words, searching to find something beautiful.
My photography teacher in high school used to say that dawn and dusk are the worst times to take pictures, unless you're aiming at the sun rising or setting. She was probably right, but this evening when I stopped staring at the clouds and glanced down at the wall that runs along the street, I found my picture.
There was only one tree among the four that was blooming, little red berries set to burst from ashen branches. I almost missed seeing it. And tomorrow it will have changed, I know.