I was in Santa Barbara County last week. It was a pleasant change from Seattle as long as the temperature hovered at the 75 degree mark. But, I confess, I wilt at 80 unless there is a cool puddle of water nearby. 
So, on Sunday as the mercury hit 95, 
I recoiled when my youngest daughter, a budding photographer, 
suggested she take some pictures of me sitting in the yard of my former house in the Santa Ynez Valley.
After all, I had just spent the week riding horseback across the furnace-like Figueroa Mountains in water soaked shirts trying to keep cool. Now, the air conditioning in the house was a perfect foil to the sweltering heatwaves rising off the asphalt driveway. 
But, the grass was cool and the breeze welcome as said daughter positioned me near a bed of spring flowers and, voila, a new photo is born: Two years hence the previous picture of the author was posted here.
I keep a file of past driver’s license photos, just to examine the aging process. For me, the years from 16 to 25 have so far shown the most change, perhaps because as I grow older the clarity of my vision has decreased. I love that soft focus look all photographs take on, like the fuzzy lens of an old movie. 
God works wonders in the exchange of aging eyes for a gentler outlook on life in general, don’t you think? And much of it has nothing to do with vision.