While enjoying Abby's photos from a trip to a nursery in Oregon, I was caught by this image of the window of a blue house, the tree with faint spots of red. Lovely.

I have been looking at a lot of photos lately at work, like thousands a day. I've noticed that when I look at photography I can never silence the writer inside me. I also want to hear a caption, to know the context and hear a story about the captured moment. I can be impressed by the aesthetics of the image, but I can connect with it only when I can connect with its story. For me, the image of plants and flowerpots at a rustic nursery on a sunny February day in Oregon reminds me of the subtle beauty of the Pacific Northwest. Home. And then I wonder how my mother's landscaping project is progressing.