When I walk out the door, I don't see a deluge of rain on the Blue Ridge Mountains... but a whole bunch of small walks led up to seeing what was right there in front of me.
So take the talk with the dog  if you have to, along with the plastic bag,

but taking your camera for a walk with the camera turned ON and the lens cap OFF, and having figured out an exposure from aiming at the grass or the blue sky above, AND you might as well put it on automatic braket at one stop darker and one stop lighter.... THEN take your camera for a walk, and photograph anything, absolutely anything that catches your imagination.  Do this everything day as a kind of spiritual practice, so you start seeing, really seeing what is around you.  If I don't have a shoot scheduled for a day, I take the camera for a walk.  There's a huge improvement in my ability to see what is around me when I do this  Try it for a week.  If I go out with my camera turned on, len cap off, exposure set and braketed, I'm now lookig in a focused manner.  Maybe it's the difference between glancing at the world and seeing with depth what is really here.  This is more in the way of sauntering, with no time table or goal or purpose--like getting in some exercise--  Sauntering, or walking and observing, is written about by no less a person than Emerson and Thoreau.  In fact their two little essays about walking are printed together in one little book, available from Abe's Books on-line for  just a few dollars--or through your local library ."saunting is like a meandering river seeking the shortest route to the sea."
Consider meandering as one of the highest callings of every human being, then it will be easy to take your camera for a walk.  Seeing, really seeing each other and the world is a big part of what it's all about

Beloved Creator

            Leave us undone

            Leave us restless

Mix us up with uncertainty

            Allow inconsistency to confuse us

            Allow foolishness to distract us

            Allow changes to keep us insecure

Stir us up with emotion

            Let fear tempt us to run

            Let anger tempt us to hurt

            Let joy tempt us to hold on too long

Frustrate us

            Prompt our impatience with the slowness of life

            Throw obstacles in front of our desires

            Invite willful people to complicate our great schemes

Without the many possibilities of these imperfections,

            We would forget that you are creating us

            Grow fat and content with ourselves

            Pretend that we do not need you

            And live as if you do not exist

We thank you for our doubting that teaches us to trust

            For our wounds that teach us to have mercy

            For our withholding that allows us to give

            For our delights and pleasures that refresh us

            For human love that allows us to create

                        As we are being created

You know what we need

            Add and subtract as you may

            Ignore our requests for more control

                        Our bargaining for more privileges

                        And our protests over too much suffering

Let our faith deepen in the mysterious wisdom of your ways

Off us just enough and nothing more

            That we may choose to be awake

            That we may choose to love

            That our lives may give birth

            That we may die into your presence

            That we may love and let go a little more with each

                        Moment of our breathing

Thank you for unfinishing us

            Offering us the possibilities of being undone

            Allowing us to willingly surrender                      

         The imperfect gifts of our lives.           Ted Kempel

Before returning from 10 days of photography in and around Boone, North Carolina, I created an outline of the photographs I had created.. 
Troutsong 2013 (where I stayed)
    a.  Barns
    b.  Farms
    c.  Waterfalls
    d.  Streams
            1.  Howard's Creek
            2.  Route 221
And on it went. 
When I opened Lightroom 4, I created the folder and files as I went along, choosing the images for each file, renaming them with the location name added to the original camera number and successive numbers.Lightroom made them alphbetically correct.
When I edit an image it gets a name with the edit number as a "save as."  I keep all layers and save as a tiff.  I keep all layers in case I want to change something later, or use a different layer as the print later.  Each layer is labeled:  "sharpened" or "noise reduction" or "highlight shadow adjustment."

I know that some photographers merged all layers when finished editing, in order to save space.  But our approaches change over time as we change.  I keep all photographs, because "you never know" when what I dismissed as unusable, becomes an image I see possibilities. Or, my new edition of Photoshop CS6 or 7 or 15 makes something new possible.
  That's a good approach to base a life on:  no one is finished. No one word or act is the final word.  
 A friend of mine Ted Kempel wrote a short reflection called "The Gift of Being Unfinished."  With a photograph, I just come to a stopping point for that day.  I might pick it up again later, or not.  Or as the Quakers say, "I am laying it down."  I could pick it up again later or not.  It's such a kind and merciful way to live.  I never know how another person will change; no on is ever finished. there is no last word on any of us.   One experience is never the last word on that person, or the last word on me.

The photograph above was created at Craggy Gardens on the Blue Ridge Parkway.  It is about 3700 feet above sea level, with odd shaped trees and rhododendron.  Each time I've been there, I've gotten a ways down the path. I hear thunder, and feel drops of rain, I head back to the car, fast, with equipment under my shirt.   And long before I get there, it is raining like crazy.  The image is after the rain stopped.  I hopped out of the car with drips still here and there. Below is another of the clouds racing up the  side of a mountain. 
In the next blog I'll print "The Gift of Being Un