Summer is here. Tropical storms and hurricanes erupt in May.  The days are endlessly long.  They will not turn the corner until late June.  It must be nice where you are.  I want to come.  I want to share the weather I see in catalogs in which people can wear layers that are not sweated through on blue, cloudless days, where happy families make hand-cranked ice cream and couples sit beside a fire at dusk.  Here, madness and lunacy are about to erupt like the spawning of mold and mildew brought about by the warm humidity.  I am struck through with dismal fear.  

"Stop that!"  

I am terrified that I won't be able to make photographs that look like the one above again.  Was it a mere accident?  What did I do to create it?  The shutter speed was slow.  There was little light, only the tungsten lamps in the unfired strobes.  I can't remember what else happened in processing.  

"It wasn't a nothing.  It was a fear and dread that he knew too well.  It was all fear and dread and men who feared and dreaded, too."  Or something.  Apologies Ernie.