From midnight tomorrow I won’t be able to see my darling boy-child for at least four weeks. No hugs for four weeks, so I’ll have to enjoy memories and reminders of hugs past — at least for now.
“There are always two people in every picture: the photographer and the viewer.” – Ansel Adams. Image: Su Leslie 2019
Some things feel like they should always come in twos — like biscuits, and scoops of ice-cream. Though with (regular) hindsight, maybe having two eyes but only one stomach is a problem.
Apparently, one of the earliest versions of the saying “two’s company, three’s a crowd” dates back to 1678. John Ray wrote in his collection English Proverbs “One’s too few, three too many.”
Generally, gannets mate for life. Image: Su Leslie 2019
Brother and sister; enjoying shave ice at Helensville A&P Show, NZ. Image: Su Leslie, 2017.
Two little boys; best friends from Day 1. Image: Su Leslie
Llew Summers’ sculpture “Dance to the end of love.” Auckland Botanic Gardens. Image: Su Leslie 2019
Father and son. Neuschwanstein Castle, 2015. Image: Su Leslie
Motherhood; day 1. Image: Leslie-Gray family archive, 1998.
The boy-child was not a model baby. Although delivered full-term, he weighed barely 2.5kg at birth, and we struggled hugely in his first few months with feeding difficulties and erratic sleeping patterns.
I’m not entirely sure what I expected of motherhood, but certainly not the exhaustion, guilt, fear, loneliness and utter helplessness I experienced. I had told clients I’d probably be back to work after about eight weeks. In reality, as eight weeks became twelve, I still considered it a good day if I managed to get both the baby and I dressed and out of the house.
The post-natal depression with which I was diagnosed lasted for years. Long after the boy-child’s sleeping ceased to be a problem, I still experienced the same sick, clenched stomach if he did cry out in the night.
There is a lot I just don’t remember about my son’s first year — and I certainly wasn’t up to taking lots of photos, or keeping a “Milestones” book as many of the other new mothers I knew did.
When I think back on that time, what I do remember is the music. The soundtrack of my son’s babyhood may well be the best bit, and there are so many songs I could choose from that time.
But I’ve always loved the opening line of this song, and I think that although it isn’t about motherhood, it speaks brilliantly to the essence of a mother’s love.
Love, love is a verb
Love is a doing word
— Massive Attack, Teardrop
Sarah at Art Expedition is hosting 30 Days, 30 Songs for the month of June. You can see her latest post here.
A younger, and much muckier, boy-child. Image: Su Leslie 2006
I really had to go searching for a shot of the boy-child in any sort of state that could be described as grubby. He’s always been an outdoorsy sort, but as a skateboarder, prefers paved urban street to muddy fields.
His father on the other hand ….
Never afraid to get grubby in the pursuit of a good bike ride. The “I’m so tough, I kick sand in my own face” shot. Image: Su Leslie 2016
Greeting card; given by a friend so many years ago that book tokens were still a “thing.”
Smiles have been in rather short supply lately for family ZimmerBitch.
The boy-child is learning some hard lessons on his path to becoming an adult; dealing with work and study and a raft of annoyances and disappointments that have left him exhausted and glum.
Anxiety about our son’s welfare, coupled with stress around the decisions we need to make about our own future, have left even the normally cheerful Big T struggling to smile.
And as if the emotional grims weren’t enough, ALL the family cars have recently suffered some sort of ‘needs-money-spent’ problem.
Then yesterday the glass panel on our kitchen range-hood decided to part company with the rest of the device, leaving every surface in the kitchen twinkling under a sea of broken glass. And leaving us shopping for a new range-hood.
But still, when I went into the office this morning and saw the “Three Wise Men” card, I smiled. Partly because I think it’s genuinely funny, but mostly because it’s a reminder of a friendship that stretches back almost 40 years, and a friend who cheers me up when I need it.
Captured out walking between rain showers. Photo: Su Leslie, 2015. Shot with iPhone4, edited with Snapseed.
Having remained healthy throughout a particularly cold and wet winter, it is annoying (and really uncomfortable) to finally succumb to a spring flu.
The boy-child toppled first; but with the resilience of youth was better within 24 hours. I thought I’d followed the same path, but seem to be fighting (more or less successfully) a rear-guard action against a second assault.
It is the Big T who has been hardest hit, with aches, fever, sore throat and a wretched cough. He’s remarkably immune to “man-flu”, so I know it’s bad when he stays in bed and cancels meetings. It’s on days like this I’m grateful I work from home and that my office is only across the landing from our bedroom.
So between sickness and persistent rain showers, I haven’t been out much, and this week’s photos were taken on a fairly short, but brisk, walk around the neighbourhood at the weekend. They’ve been edited a little — mainly to darken the background — and I think quite accurately reflect the quiet, slightly somber mood of our household at the moment.
Captured out walking between rain showers. Photo: Su Leslie, 2015. Shot with iPhone4, edited with Snapseed.
A trick of the light; this flower was on the same shrub as the others, but shot from a different angle, was captured in a different light. Photo: Su Leslie, 2015. Shot with iPhone4, edited with Snapseed and Pixlr Express.
Reflection of the garden in a water droplet, hanging from the bud of an impatiens. What could be more ephemeral? Photo: Su Leslie, 2015
So much in life is ephemeral; moments that dissolve and never reappear. Sometimes ephemerality (is that a word??) comes from the unique and specific convergence of several elements. From an impatiens bud (which tomorrow will be a flower) hangs a droplet of rainwater (which will shortly fall to the ground and be absorbed into our parched back lawn). Reflected in that droplet is an upside down garden, itself subject to constant and sometimes significant change. I could return to the same spot every day — or at least after every rain shower — and never recapture this moment.
It’s ironic maybe that photography, by capturing an image of the ephemeral, removes that very quality. Yet of course, photography itself is not permanent in the big scheme of things. Old negatives degrade, prints are damaged and destroyed, the electronic files in which contemporary images are stored are subject to deletion, corruption and technological change.
So we must enjoy our moments now; celebrate the water droplet, the perfect latte, the cat snoozing in the window, and above all the time we spend with those we love and cherish.
This is not where I normally drink my morning coffee, so a perfect latte on a perfect winter’s morning at Caffe Eis, on Wellington’s waterfront — a moment to cherish. Photo: Su Leslie, 2010.
Rain on garden mesh rendered a bit magical by a bit of bokeh and a random play of light. Photo: Su Leslie, 2014.
Seen in a bookshop window in San Francisco. I was captivated by the reflection of the word “books” on the sleeping cat’s fur. Photo: Su Leslie, 2015.
Love at first sight. My son, aged 4, showed an instant and total affection for his great aunt Evelyn and great uncle Tom. This photo was taken within minutes of their first meeting. The boy-child is now 17, and Uncle Tom is no longer with us. Photo: Gray family archive.
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