“The magic is not in the analyzing or the understanding. The magic lives in the wonder of what we do not know.”
― Rick Rubin, The Creative Act: A Way of Being

I stand in the middle of a field of dead, brown grass along a county road and wonder what those who pass me by must be thinking. They might think I lost something, until they see the camera in my hand. I stand and watch the slight breeze move the blades of the tall grass. I watch the birds who are sitting now in a dead tree beside the field, as I have interrupt their search for seeds. They scold me, and I apologize, as I am on their turf.

I take my time, play around with the settings on my camera, try different angles, and try not to overthink things too much. I allow my intuition to lead me, for I am not sure what I am after. I am pleased when I upload the camera card to my computer. Not because the images are perfect or stunning by any means, but because they make me feel once more the slight breeze on my face, and hear the birds that sang in the tree . . .

causing me to suddenly to feel alive.

“A GRAY DAY … but, strangely enough, a gray day makes the bunches of daffodils in the house have a particular radiance” 

― May Sarton, Journal of a Solitude

We drive through the farmlands north of us to a dairy farm to get a load of compost. I throw my camera in the truck, just in case, and shoot these out of the truck window. The day is gray, but it is not raining and by the time we get home the clouds have cleared some. We spend the day among the rich soil, redoing the beds in the vegetable garden, and giving the flowers and fruit trees some much needed nourishment. I am sore and dirty by the time we call it quits, but bask in the familiarity, both physically and mentally, a day in the garden holds for me. Past gardens are remembered, and the anticipation of what this years garden might bring, fills me with joy, and nourishes my soul.

It has been a very long winter.

I shot these with my Lensbaby Velvet 85 lens
out the window of our moving truck.

“A tulip doesn’t strive to impress anyone. It doesn’t struggle to be different than a rose. It doesn’t have to.
It is different. And there’s room in the garden for every flower.” – Marianne Williamson.

A few short miles from our home the spring trees are in bloom. Our trees are behind. Maybe it is the cool wind coming up off the lake, or the slight of rise in elevation, where are home sits. But I know from past springs, that she will arrive. Until then there is Trader Joes, where I stop each week to buy a bouquet for the table. A simple pleasure that I have taken up lately, just because.

These were taken with my Velvet 85 Lensbaby lens. A beautiful lens to use on flowers.

 

“We are making photographs to understand what our lives mean to us.”

– Ralph Hattersley

There are times I fret over my photography style. Feeling like I need to identify my genre, be more precise, have a specific plan. But I find the photos that speak to me the most are the ones I leave to chance. I have come to realize that I live much of my life this way. Following my gut instead of a mapped out plan. For if I overthink it, the magic of the moment is somehow lost for me, and any creativity I had is weighed down in doubt.

“Thanks for this day, for all birds safe in their nests, for whatever this is, for life.” 

― Barbara Kingsolver, Prodigal Summer

 

Spring arrives and I embrace her with open arms.
I find myself on my knees in the front garden,
trying to get beneath this lovely hellebore,
as to see her face. I am not nimble enough.
But it is enough to capture her vibrant colors,
the striking outline of her petals, and
the way the green complements it all.
It is enough to know spring has commenced,
and I am here to see and feel.

It all, is enough . . .