Things are starting to come up in my yard and it reminds me of a metaphor I discovered and photographed last year. I'll start from the beginning. Tulips have always been my favorites and they became even more favored once I had space to plant them and became aware of how easy they are. Even though I hate gardening, I always have a thing for photographing what comes up in the spring. No reason. I just do it, but then I feel sorta hmmm, matured I guess, because I know from printing experience, photographing floral shit in your yard for no reason is what many retired folks do.
I noticed things when the flowers started to whither and die. They became somewhat cool to photograph. In color, it isn't anything special, but in black and white, it starts to be all about light and texture and in photography, that's more delicious than hot macaroni and cheese on a rainy day.
Second of all, I thought a lot about how these flowers became much more rich, deep and fascinating to me while they were in this weak dying process. I thought about my mom in particular and how amazing she was while she was sick. It's easy to be happy and positive while we're healthy and all is well, but going through sickness and the tough times are when we really see what we're made of. My mom was always friendly, kind and positive and even when she was dying a torturous death due to medical error, there could be no doubt that her traits were authentic, because most of the time, she still was all of those things. She worried more about us and provided support and counseling to us in her greatest time of need for as long as she could. Like these flowers, her light and texture was more evident as she was leaving the world.
Also, my dad was alive this time last year, but I feel like I saw him differently after losing my mom as well. He had always been strong, rational and absolutely-no-nonsense, but without my mom, his shell fell off and for the next year and a half, he was fragile and sensitive. He too developed a deeper texture.
Also, I think for those of us who live, getting hit with losing half of our immediate family in a short period of time brought out a new texture in us. I think the relationship between my siblings and I have changed. I don't know about them, but the way I look at the world has become more wrinkled like these flowers, but also the wrinkles are what makes it richer in a sense. Life isn't as beautiful as it used to be, but now I can see the beauty where it is. I don't think I knew how well I had it, until I lost it, but losing it, makes me love what I have left even more. Like a good photograph, contrast brings out the best in things. Or, at least it makes it more interesting to examine.
Does this make sense? Looking at these photographs again now, I'm thinking this may be another photo project for this season. I see things I would like to do differently. I have a whole body of work in my mind. We'll see how that goes.