This morning from the kitchen window I saw the bleeding heart my Mom gave me starting to bloom, so I walked out to take a closer look. Then I saw the yellow scotch broom which she gave me several years ago. Mom and I were both frustrated because it hadn’t bloomed for years. Mom kept telling me to give it a chance,. I was going to pull it out this year and this morning I saw it was beginning to flower. Amazing. I know Mom is trying to tell me something.
James A. Gray, A World War II veteran salutes the flag as the national anthem is played. Gray was held as a prisoner of war in Germany during the war.
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The last leaves of autumn appear full of life and rich in color as the late afternoon sun spotlights them. Each year these leaves remind me of O’Henry’s short story, “The Last Leaf”.
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Temperatures reached an unseasonable 70 degrees, perfect for sitting on a bench and watching the world go by.
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I saw this out of the corner of my eye and was struck by the simplicity and the geometry of it. I was photographing a room in someone’s home. This scene was in a different room and I was lucky enough to sneak a few shots.
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An early morning flight form JFK to Sarasota, Florida reminded me that morning light can be so special. Note to self, look for morning light more often.
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Lately, I have been seeing things in black and white. I guess that is how my world seems right now. Funny, when I first took photography in high school, I was shooting and processing everything in black and white. I have always loved black and white images, they seem stronger and more compelling. They have a timeless quality to them. Black and white photography is more dramatic, I guess I wish that real life had a little less drama in it.
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On sleepless nights, like last night, I am always reminded of a quote from “The Crack-Up” written by my favorite author, F. Scott Fitzgerald. “In a real dark night of the soul it is always three o’clock in the morning”. So true.
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My trumpet dafffodils are always among the first sign of Spring in my garden. Today as temperatures climbed above ninety it felt more like summer. I’m just glad the brutal winter is behind me.
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I’ve always thought of those moments after the sun sinks as magical. Everything looks warm and inviting in the sun’s afterglow. Tonight I glanced out the window at the same stuff I see every day which has become rather ordinary and the view was anything but.
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I think I have been suffering lately from the photographer’s version of “writers’ block”. Hence, my absence from blogging. So this post is for my good friend Boca Barb, who quietly sends emails with visual suggestions that help me to “see” again. Thanks, Barb!
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