I don't know much about fishing. Wrong, I know almost nothing about fishing.

My step-father, who loved to fish, would take me fishing occasionally. I found it was a good place to visit. And he was a wonderful man. But I recall that when I would start to catch fish (and he didn't), he would move the boat. He was a lake fisherman. In later years, he would just bait the hooks of a couple of poles attached to the dock, throw in the line, and go back up to the house. He would check later to see if he caught anything.

Now, this fisherman appears to be fly-fishing. I suspect someone will straighten me out on this, if I'm off-base. I wanted to photograph him because of his orange shirt, and his tanned legs, and the orange logo on his cap. And here he was standing on top of a waterfall and watching his fly (hook) float downstream. And he'd gather it up and flip it out on the water and let it float downstream.

He dressed the part, but I began to believe he wasn't any better at this than I was. But I do recall someone telling me once, "Catching fish ain't the point." And "A bad day of fishing is better than a good day at work."

This kind of wonderment occurs when you watch a fellow watch his fly float downstream.

And then, there's this: "When we cast our bread upon the waters, we can presume that someone downstream whose face we may never see will benefit from our action, even as we enjoy the gifts sent to us from a donor upstream." Maya Angelou

I find it difficult to comprehend that we need more than just sweet nutrition, since I have such a "sweet tooth".

These butterflies are gathering around a food source other than nectar. They need other nutrients, such as salts and amino acids, that they are finding in this moist gravel in Great Smoky National Park. Typically one finds the nutrient, and attracts a crowd. They attract photographers as well. This behavior known as "puddling" or "mud-puddling" can produce quite a large grouping of butterflies. It's a potluck supper, or a cookout, or stopping at the roadside restaurant where the parking lot is full. It's a visual promise of "good eating".

It may even mean there's chocolate cake for dessert.

Rarely is there just one way to do anything.

You can do it this way OR...

And driving to a destination, you could go this way OR...

We had a guest from Sierra Leone with us one winter who was amazed at how many roads we had in the Midwest. "In my country, there is only one road to where we want to go. But here you have many choices. How do you know which is the right one?"

This is the question. There are so many options, so many choices, so many decisions. It always leaves me wondering.

There is this choice, OR...

With my back to the sunset, I saw this.

Funny thing is, I didn't take a picture of the sunset. Maybe I was in the wrong spot and didn't have much of a view of the sunset or it didn't appeal to me for some reason. Never-the-less, I have no images of the sun that evening. And I recall that this was a wet vantage point, and that I had worn tall boots to get to this spot. Can you hear the red-winged blackbird singing?

This is Nipper Sink Sanctuary, south west of Springfield, Illinois.

Dangerous. Destructive. Blazing. Consuming.

Or just the first step to S'Mores and sweetness and fun evenings and laughter and sticky fingers and memories.

We have breakfast in the garden.

Truth, to tell, we have lunch and dinner in the garden as well. When the weather permits, I drink my morning coffee very near this spot. I take a medication first thing in the morning and have to wait 30 minutes before eating breakfast. I've been amazed at the benefit of relaxing with my cup and thinking and meditating and praying and giving thanks and "breathing deeply" and watching the morning awaken in my backyard. I suppose if I was still working there would be a different routine , but I appreciate this opportunity of having a morning drink and noticing other creatures giving thanks for refreshment.

Winged Victory stands tall atop the pedestal of the Elijah P. Lovejoy monument in Alton, Illinois.

Lovejoy, killed on the eve of his 35th birthday in 1837 by a pro-slavery mob, was a Presbyterian minister, a newspaper editor, and a fervent abolitionist. Inscribed on one side of his monument is his testimony: "I have sworn eternal opposition to slavery and by the blessing of God I will never turn back."

As I have reflected on this photo, taken several years ago, and Lovejoy's passion for truth and justice and freedom, I cannot escape the notion that most, if not all evil, erupts from the objectification of other human beings. Without seeing another person as real, there can be no trust nor respect. The results are myriad wars of all sizes, and greed, and jealousy, and intolerance, and hatred of anyone who is different.

Lovejoy used his words from the pulpit and through the printing press to expose the abhorrence of an economic system based on owning other human beings, as if God's children can be just another possession. He paid for his words with his life. Slavery eventually ended, but the evil mistreatment of other people has not been conquered...yet. But with each expression of justice, Victory is poised to announce another step toward true humanity and community.