The weak grey light that serves as harbinger of red and golden dawn faintly lit my window. I fumbled for a candle, found and lit it, and by its little light saw that the rose floating in the bowl was dying.
I want to get a picture of lightning. I'm never in the right place at the right time with my camera. There are very few thunderstorms in Wyoming. To capture the color purple is a millisecond rare twinkling of an eye photo.