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What day is it?
Somewhere in September.
Life seems to be a bit busy. Suddenly for some reason I am social. I catch up for lunch with people I haven’t seen for a year or two. Thankfully the connections are still there and more often than not the conversation flows freely like it was last week when we last spoke, not a number of months.
As joyful as it is to reconnect, there is a part of me that is looking for that quiet moment. The moment when the to do list is done, the planning for whatever event requires planning is done and so are the dishes. That moment when you just sit and do nothing. Your mind settles from the daily flutter and you just sit still. Maybe a dog snuggles you on the couch. I find these moments are just that. A moment. They often only last a few minutes and then something enters your head that needs doing, and you are off again.
As part of my creative course, I was encouraged to spend some time reflecting on my past work. I must admit that this is something I rarely do. Most of my photos are taken in the moment and will very little planning. I respond to what I see. I take a photo and move on (mostly doing the above and squeezing in a snap around other things). Once the photo is taken, I either yay or nay it and move on. Sometimes I share it. Most of the time they sit in Lightroom gathering virtual dust. The prospect of reviewing all my photos felt a bit daunting so instead I narrowed the window and just looked at the photos I took this time last year. It was a delight to jump back in time to September last year and see what was flowering then, giving me hints of what is to come. I saw shots of images I am repeating this year. I see shots that I want to try again, to refine I guess. I see some photos that I am not sure I took. They look stunning. I forget sometimes that I like my photos in the daily flit of taking them. A few images were put in a folder as prompts to explore further. Maybe I will do the same thing again next year to see how my story as a photographer has unfolded further.
“Nothing is the same. No thing is the same.
Everything is itself and one of a kind.’
I have a route I am taking round the garden with the camera. The garden is slowly filling but there are still many gaps and the novelty of a new flower blooming is ever present. The route starts at the herb garden where rightly or wrongly, tulips have been planted and are flowering. I am sure last year they were deep crimson. This year they are white with a hint of pink. I watch them change daily from tight structural bud to floppy petals dancing in the wind. The next stop is the Daffodils. Some are in pots. These ones are rather structured and are various shades of peach and yellow. I love their frills. Other daffs stretch tall in the grass under the fruit trees. They are a collective group and look like they are stopping for a chat in various social groups. Next I swing past the hellebores. They have flowered so well this year. Little seed pods are starting to form and I hope I get seedlings this year. I love the different colours you can see on one plant as each flower head is a different stage of it’s lifecycle. New blooms are a bold deep crimson, older flowers are softer in tone. More tulips follow - this time deep pink with ruffles. The lips of the bloom is so textured. And I finally return to the front door. Then I remember the ranunculus. It has been budded up ready to bloom for a number of days and I am so desperate for it to unfold. I am a flower stalker. I check it a couple of times a day, just in case. It is still solidly shut. Maybe tomorrow.
I unintentionally had an artist date whilst in Christchurch recently. An overnight visit with my BFF. We called it the restorative trip. As much as we love our families the trip was very much just worrying about ourselves and we very quickly fell into a comfortable quiet that you can only share with those who truly get you. We ambled about the centre of Christchurch. A nose in a shop here and there. We told stories to each other as we ambled along and then we discovered our mutual love for a gift shop. In this case the Christchurch Art Gallery. I haven’t brought a postcard because it was pretty for a long time. I collected a few things, a print, some postcards and notebooks of delightful paper that I will admit to be afraid to use there are so beautiful. Gifts for self purchased we wandered around the gallery and like the gift shop I forget how wonderful it is to just look at images. To study. Make a comment if you are in company and most importantly get inspired. We’ve spent so much of the last few years due to COVID just existing that for me it felt so refreshing to do something that felt like living. I have my gift shop treasures on my dresser in the bedroom and each time I walk past them they remind me to keep living not just exist.