Marcoclicks - images, words

Knowing the season

When the days are getting longer, it is well to remember that the imprint of the season is still strong, still present in so many ways. These accumulations of wind and cold have an effect on living things.

We can see it in the shrubs - their limp branches, holding dried leaves and only a few, evoke this time of transition. Death has taken the green growing things and rebirth is not yet here. It's cold.

So is it the persistance that attracts us?  Maybe. Whatever it is, we notice that it is quiet and not self-conscious. It speaks of living this part of a life for which there is no alternative. Perhaps it is patience, or a form of heroism, or simply what it means to be a plant, this act of being in a place and experiencing that which is there.

And what is this to me? I don't know. But I'm grateful for the effort I must expend to examine this and the blessing of seeing and feeling and imagining the drama and dance that these living beings have brought forth.

Marco

Warm ice

Chill air and bright sun combine to remember winter's warmth. It is easier to invite softness in when the wind is still and ice drips, even if slowly. All around the pond, the border between cold and less cold is inviting, opening to days that are slowly increasing.

We can watch, if we choose, even sit along side the melting skin and frozen rocks. It brings a comfort unlike summer sitting, yet comfort still. It reminds us of where we are headed, willy-nilly, and, perhaps a bit of where we've been. This is February's warmth, such as it is, if we will notice. Breathe and notice.

Marco

There are so many words, probably too many, that I've spent on flowers. Especially this glorious amaryllis bulb that brings such an exuberant presence into my home.

I wish I understood flowers better. When I shoot them, I feel a tad guilty, as in, they're so pretty just as they are, the images feel like snapshots.

So, I'll stop - not shooting, but talking. I'll let you just look at these and decide for yourself, if you can, how this world can contain such various beauty.

Cheers,

Marco

Different but the same

Just as winter's presence was made unmistakable, a sign of rebirth came into my life. None too soon. Yesterday's snow and ice are still with us, marking another of winter's milestones. So waking to this year's amaryllis has been a blessing.

Each year I vow that I will just enjoy these graceful blossoms. And each year I eventually set up the tripod and do my best to do justice to these messengers from some more perfect place. It is hard for me. In some ways I prefer the mess, the compost. And while I will await this blossom's descent, it is clear that it is celebrating its birth. So I record that, as best I can, noting the grace of color and texture and movement. And awaiting whatever unfolds.

Cheers,

Marco

Inside

Did you know that tulips like cold water? So you should put ice cubes in to top up the vase, or so I was told. Perhaps that is why these blooms lasted as long as they have. And even as they have entered their decline - my favorite time - they have keep their color and, perhaps more important, their dignity.

These have been graceful blossoms, seemingly grateful for the cold water or perhaps for the attention that I gave them, somewhat more than usual. It wasn't hard, though. They repaid attention with views worthy of the discipline.

What we see is an injured bloom, the loss of petals bringing us an intimate vista. Can we know what draws us to this? Is it color or texture or form or some combination? It doesn't matter. What matters is the grace of looking, the grace of seeing. And, of course, what we do with it.

Marco

More or less

It is coming again but slowly, the time when I am more inclined to shoot inside. That accounts for the flowers - not that many interesting things to shoot indoors, at least not around here. So I work to make the flowers say something, something that is beyond just the pretty that they embody. That's why I like to see them with a limited palette, in black & white.

There's something about the texture that becomes much more visible when you're not distracted by color. I suppose it's probably saying more about me than about the work - but then again, that's the story of this blog over the past two years, isn't it? My take on images that are often just fine without any words at all.

So I'll leave you with this image, several red and purple tulips that shared my living room recently. There's lots here. And more than the color would suggest.

Cheers,

Marco