"The business of art is rather to understand Nature and to reveal her meanings to those unable to understand. It is to convey the soul of a tree… The mission of art is to bring out the unfamiliar from the most familiar." –Khalil Gilbran
One of the first wildflowers I always look for in the spring is the trillium. This one is a Western Wake Robin, or trillum ovatum, that blooms early in the spring, and is a wildflower that I often see deep in the forest. Bright spots all along the trail. Wake Robin because it’s a flower that blooms before the Robin begins nesting in the early spring.
The white trillium is thought to be a symbol of purity and recovery; also thought to symbolize the Christian trinity, among other interpretrations.
A visit to a little known trail up along a windy lumber road in the Hoh Forest. In the middle of winter, we had a lovely sunshine-filled morning as we hiked along the trail. Thick forest growth allowed for moments like this, where streams of sunlight cut through the shadowy trail. Another one of those magical moments in nature. Hoh is one of the largest temperate rainforests in the U.S. and truly an amazing experience.
Some people might just see dead things. I don’t. I see shapes and color and curves of autumn. I see a sleepy time, hibernation, and soon, the advent of rejuvenation. I see a richness of texture and depth of color, curves and lines. I see the shadow of a curled, brittle leaf. I see life that has run its fruitful course. I see families, I see teams, I see closeness, I see huddles. I see sleep, and napping on a cold autumn morning. Do you see just a bunch of dead leaves or do you see possibilities?
Mistress Mary, Quite contrary,
How does your garden grow?
With Silver Bells, And Cockle Shells,
And so my garden grows.
An old rhyme (1744), “Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary,” which this photograph brought to mind. These pretty posies aren’t silver bells, but they are bluebells, and growing profusely in the spring. Looking forward to photographing wildflowers this year, hopefully in the not too distant future.
Structures, architecture, an iconic imagery of labor and farming and agriculture. Wetlands still pooling from the rains of winter. There’s a story here and that’s what we look for isn’t it? The colors – the blues, the browns, the greens. Textures in the trees, the field, the sky, the water. Shadows and light. Lots to see here. Lots ot photograph and compose.
What can better say springtime than a field of colorful tulips. Pretty, and bright, and happy colors. Fields and fields of tulips in springtime. Hopeful colors. Dancing away in a light breeze. A natural vibrancy that only Mother Nature can provide.
I used to work a bit in stained glass, mostly suncatchers, not the big leaded window designs one sees in churches and Victorian homes, as much. So details of wings especially intrigue me.
I used to create a lot of butterly suncatchers. Noticing this detail had me in my head, designing pieces of stained glass once again. Maybe some clear glass with copper threading, not necessarily heavier led channels. Delicate, whistful, beautiful.
Note the dusting of pollen on the wings, like golddust. Tiny particles, that from a distance we wouldn’t even notice. But up close, the powdery substance looks like someone had sprinkled yellow bits across the wings. Maybe some fairy dancing by with a basket of golden pollen, sprinkling it, dancing along.
Spring, what a joyful, magical time of year. Bright colors everywhere. and early spring, that unfolding after a long winter’s sleep. Reawakening. Alive and dancing among the flowers.
I am, you know. All about the details, natural details, in our environment. Like thie pinec cone. Love this design. There is such an intimacy to macro photography, so very up close and personal. Sometimes we get so busy, we miss the detail. We gloss over things, we don’t stop, and really look, admire, attend to, the details in live. We’ve become much too fast of a culture. Nature is rejuvenating. It isn’t always about the big picture, sometimes it’s just a second, a monent, a detail, like this pine cone.
I have this habit of walking and then stopping. Just standing there and waiting, of admiring, of aborbing my surroundings. It’s that moment of realigning to the the initimacy of details. I love the details.