Oh, the anticipation when picking up my envelope of photos from the drugstore. Would my shots of the penguins at the zoo come out? (Glass reflections.) The screeching bird at the Baltimore Aquarium -- the one that bursts your eardrums if you stay in there too long? (A teeny red dot amidst a sea of green leaves.) The bee on the flower? The spider in its web? The dog in the snow? (Blur. Blur. Blur.)
I can see so many things of beauty. At the Cherry Blossom Festival this past Friday, I saw the most gorgeous burled tree:
That's why I rely on the photos of others. When we went to London, I made sure I bought a postcard of every building, statue, and beefeater that I tried to capture on film just to be sure to have the image! When my cousin travels all over the world, I ask him to send me photos -- I know they'll be good. Just recently, I met someone who is a photographer on the side. (You can tell such photographers by their cameras: They still look like cameras and are the size of my Thanksgiving turkey.) I get the occasional link to some of his work. Envy is a sin, isn't it?
I'm no better a photographer today than I ever was. But today I can delete my complete failures before I download them to my desktop. And I can Google image search. But, oh, how I wish I had the talent...