I took both of these photographs from the same place — the edge of a raised wooden boardwalk surrounding Rum Island Springs on the Santa Fe River near Fort White, Florida. The first image, taken with my Ztylus fisheye lens, captures the colorful, inviting world of the riverine landscape, with its shallow, perfectly transparent waters and woods still in leaf in early December. Turning, I saw an intriguing little beetle making its way along the edge of a wooden railing, the inspiration for the second photograph with my Ztylus macro lens. They are worlds apart yet geographically adjacent — a reminder that there is so much to notice wherever we are. One photo cannot possibly capture the experience of being in a place; as I found two years ago, even a full year of inhabitation is not enough to grasp it fully. As I consider my upcoming trip to Australia, I am humbled, reminded of Thoreau’s proud declaration that “I have traveled widely in Concord.” The challenge is to slow down enough to notice what is there — to let the inhabited landscape speak to you, in colors, forms, and furtive movements glimpsed out of the corner of an eye.