Until, that is, I took a walk with my brother the photographer.

We have this group of five musical angels, sculptures by Carl Milles, perched atop pillars outside our campus auditorium. My brother and I went out for a stroll this afternoon, and when he stopped walking and started shooting the angels, I was suddenly able to see them differently, and to shoot them, too:

It's no surprise to me, after this many years, that my brother can help me see things differently; seeing things differently is, after all, his vocation. Now, I'm not saying that I like these statues better than the other, actually flying things I saw today--a male cardinal, a tufted titmouse, a house finch, and (less savory) two enormous turkey vultures perched atop a chimney. (Of all those things, I think I liked the titmouse best; it was tiny and grey, hopping about in the holly bushes outside my house, and its crest, fine and crazy like my own hair, made me love it.) But somehow I feel grateful that I've been able to see them in an appreciative way, at long last.