I Don’t Like To Mow

Puffball
Yellow Salsify Puffball

Putting Off Pay Off

I don’t like to mow.  I hadn’t mowed this spring, yet.  The weeds were getting taller and taller.  All my neighbors had mowed their yards; a few more than once.  There was something growing out there and I wanted to see what it was.  I could tell it was a specimen, not one of those weeds, a dense community of like-kind trying to choke out anything dissimilar. This one was taller, stronger, reaching upward with several outstretched branches .  I couldn’t mow it down.  I had to wait and see what it’s flower looked like.  Besides, I don’t like to mow.  Never have!

I finally did break down and mow.  I had too.  The darn jungle was just getting too tall.  If I didn’t mow, now, it would become, rather than a mowing, a bush-whacking project of monumental dimensions.  Out came my Honda HR215HXA self propelled mower w/hydrostatic transmission.  Down weeds, down!  “Bruhaha!”  But, I spared this plant.  Carefully, and with skill, I maneuvered the menacing machine, capable of reducing all in its path to splinters of pulp and fiber around it’s, now looking, fragile stalk.  In short order what remained was a modernistic looking two foot high deluxe apartment building towering above a mass of closely cropped one-size-fits-all flats.  I could now have the best of both worlds.  A closely cropped yard of weeds matching my neighbors’ yards for the uniform height of our weeds.  Well, with the exception of my special specimen which sticks out like the proverbial “thumb”.

I didn’t have to wait long for my curiosity to be sated.  The next day, about mid-morning, I was greeted with a single yellow, daisy-like flower beginning to open from atop one of the upward bound stems, each of which was topped with its own swelling bud.  I’d like to think it was showing its gratitude for being spared the whirling blade of dismemberment and death.  That’s just me feeling connected to everything.  More than likely I scared it and all its energy was shifted into producing seed, the sole purpose of its life cycle and embedded deeply in the DNA of every single seed it produces.  I enjoyed its yellow flower the rest of the day.

The following morning, in place of the yellow flower there was seed pod.  By mid-morning I could tell it was opening.  By 1:30 PM it was open fully.  The sky was completely overcast, as it had been all day.  The sunlight, filtered through the clouds was very bright.  It was wonderful light.  There was, what we call in Oklahoma, a little breeze; In Houston it’d be called a wind.  I gathered my gear:  camera, 105mm macro, remote shutter release, tripod, and McClamp stick, a plant clamp designed to safely hold a delicate plant steady for pictures.  The sight of the puffball in this light was exciting.  It was so delicate in its structure.  Every seed perfectly designed to fly effortlessly, carried to who-knows-where on the invisible currents of the wind.  The play of light upon the almost invisible fibers was hypnotic.  Up and down, to and fro, lower and lower, shift here, shift there, I worked and maneuvered tripod camera in and out of one position and to another.  My sense of location and the sounds of the city around me disappeared in the moment.  It was just me and the offspring of this plant.  Finally, after a passage of time of unknown length, I lay on the grass totally at peace with myself and creation.

Within the hour that followed, parts of the puffball had escaped the sphere of its birth and taken wing on the currents of wind growing stronger as the afternoon deepens.

Some Things Change and Some Things Don’t

Seasons Change
Seasons Change and Buffalo Roam

Change Is In the Air

Seasons change.  Leaves appear on the trees and buffalo roam across pastures grazing on the fresh, sweet, green grass of spring.

Change has been my middle-name over the past several years:  both knees and a hip totally replaced and a shoulder awaiting it’s turn, a marriage that lasted forty years ended, a 27 year professional career turned upside-down and inside-out,  retirement, and for the first time in my life, living alone.  Seasons change.  The climate changes, slowly.  The weather changes, sometimes hourly.  Governments change, sometimes quicker than the weather.  Some mountains are growing, others are weathering away.  Landfills of garbage are becoming mountains.  Wilderness areas are shrinking.  America is changing.  Society is changing.  Culture is changing.  Change!  Change!  Change!  It’s happening all around us at ever increasing, spinning, dizzying speeds!  “Stop the world, I want to get off!”  Is there anything that doesn’t change?  Yes, Clara, yes there is!

GOD doesn’t change.  Jesus Christ doesn’t change.  The Holy Spirit doesn’t change.  It’s a fact.  It’s true.  Believe it.  He’s still where he’s always been.  He’s not lost.  He’s right where you left him.  Take his hand, it’ll be okay.  He won’t change on you.  He’s GOD!

Must I Photograph?

Dutch Iris - Iris Hollandica
In My Garden

Recently the question came to my attention, “Would you still be a photographer if no one would ever see your photographs?”  This got me thinking; Would I continue to do photography without any input, of any kind, from even a single person.  Hmm!  I first thought about when and how I became interested in photography. As a child, I was fascinated by mom’s Kodak Brownie Hawkeye whenever she said, “Let me get a picture.”  The camera held my attention more than any posing instructions that followed.  Later, I’d sneak her Kodak out of the closet and take pictures.  She started hiding it; film and developing was expensive.  In the 5th  grade I sold magazine subscriptions to get a Brownie Starmite.  I didn’t have any money to buy film so I didn’t do much photography.  On my 16th  birthday, I got a Polaroid 210.  I had a job working for my dad in construction and could buy the film packs; I became a photographer.  From that time on I have always taken pictures. If making money through photography is the “line in the sand” for determining if someone is a photographer or not, then I’m on the wrong side of the line.  But the question isn’t about that.  The question is if I will continue to photograph life, as I see it, even if no one but me will ever see them.  Absolutely I will!  As long as I have a functioning camera I will take pictures that others have the opportunity to see, and yet, may never see.  Should the time come, as it has in the past, when I don’t have a functioning camera, the shutter in my mind will still click whenever I “see” the shot.  And most certainly, should my eyes become darkened, the light of imagination will brighten the viewfinder of my mind and the shutter will still click.  I am a photographer!

s