"Hi, my name is Clio and I <3 books." "As long as I don't have to read them lol." In addition to thinking about #gods, I've been taking pictures of cats and plants; for some of these pictures, such as the above, I've used this new 'micro lens' attachment I bought for $9.99. It's not the most aMaZINg thing in the world, but it's fun in a very mild, low-key way, which (low-key fun) is something I find I miss a lot in the internet age, when everyone's going on FB and Twitter and describing everything in life-altering terms. If you're like me, a micro lens might be the antidote you're looking for: really small investment, seriously low-key fun, definitely not anything that's going to change my life or anyone else's, but still enjoyable for a few minutes. This one was not taken with the micro lens, however. Nor was this one. The garden is starting to leaf out: here's one of our Japanese maples (Acer palmatum 'Elizabeth'), which I'm happy to report is looking better this year than it has in a long time. The star of the early-spring garden is definitely the cold-hardy camellia, whose flowers are like pink clouds. "We like pink clouds demand respect." -- the cold-hardy camellia Spring arrived early this year, on account of global warming. Here's a micro-shot of a hyacinth flower. The most difficult part of taking micro shots is keeping your hands steady, which is probably why serious photographers use tripods. "Why are you shooting me without a tripod?" -- the azalea It's hard to believe that something this intricate would just grow. Sometimes I hear people say 'it's just a plant' and I want to say 'you might not be so dismissive if you looked at it through a micro lens, which btw you might find mildly amusing.' Or maybe: 'if it's just a plant, why don't you build one yourself.' I couldn't stop taking pictures of the camellias. I realized that I was slightly more than mildly entertained. Our pink one has done so well that we bought a few more, including this red one, which is already flowering. One thing I've learned about gardening is that when you discover a plant that seems to like you, you should definitely not be shy about reciprocating that affection. Here's Zephyr, looking very pantheresque. And here's one of our new hellebores, which was the star of the late-winter garden. (The hellebores were blooming in February.) Clio is still young enough to be amazed by things like air and dirt and ants. Things will change once she graduates from college and faces forty years in a cube, but for now, she can enjoy life. Dante is now retired, which offers another kind of pleasure. "I'll be fighting flying snakes until the day I die." -- Elektra The small world is filled with miracles. And blemishes. Flowers are blooming everywhere, even inside. Lighting up the night. The dusk is an especially magical time, filled with things we can only see when the dying light reaches a certain angle and we see a silhouette of something -- or someone. Until you take a closer look and realize it's been there all along.