Summer rains came and never stopped. When it grew darker, Grandmother sent my sister Cathie and me out to collect roses. We carried many roses into the house, filling all the bottles we could find. The1filled the air, and the ants came out of the flowers, filling the house. Grandfather 2 his new camera, taking pictures of the ants, roses and everything. The camera light came out everywhere until Grandmother became 3.
"Marcus! I can't read! Go away. Be a 4".
"I am a farmer who takes pictures," he said 5 ， "I am a photographer-farmer."
Grandmother drove him to the barn(畜棚). I 6 Grandfather there, watching him take photos of cows 7 they showed him their backsides. I stood behind Grandfather, trying to see what he saw through the8.
Then I walked to the back of the barn where his pictures hung. And then I saw it—the picture I had taken of 9 with Cathie: Cathie's mouth opened, both lost in a singing game, light from the window around them. The picture wasn't 10 as if it was a painting or a memory. For a moment, I felt like I was Cathie. I stepped back to see the picture better and11into Grandfather standing behind me.
"You moved the camera," he said." That's 12 it didn't come out clearly."
I nodded.
"It's not a good picture."
"Joe," said Grandfather softly," it is a wonderful picture."
"But I 13 the camera."
"You did. See how it looks like Cathie and I are the only ones there. What a wonderful picture!"
Grandfather's voice rose 14.
I said shyly," Well, it's not perfect."
"Perfect!" Grandfather said." What is 15? Joe, a thing doesn't have to be perfect to be fine. That goes for a picture. That goes for life."
