It’s odd how the brain makes leaps when you need it to.
Fellow blogger Gallivanta at Silkannthreades, sent me this link (Community Spirit, at The Mundanity of it All) about a community rallying around to help an elderly woman, recently widowed, prepare her house for sale. It’s a story about people engaged in everyday goodness, and I’m sure many (hopefully most) of us could tell a similar story.
Because despite the very real, very scary things that are happening in our world, everyday life for many of us is at least sprinkled with kindness. With a desire for positive, even if fleeting, connections with others.
And oddly, that’s where the blue thistle comes in. All those individual flowers separated from the others on the surface, are of course joined at the centre, and wouldn’t survive without that connection. Nor would the plant as a whole survive without the individual flowers reaching outwards.
Maybe that is something we need to remember. That no matter how much we grow out and in our own direction, we all spring from the same heart. It’s both what feeds us, and makes us meaningful.
I’ve almost got the remains of the Big T’s bouquet out of my photographic system, deriving nearly as much pleasure from close examination of the blooms’ decay as from their beautiful heyday.
In this shoot and my earlier posts of images of a solitary gerbera, I was really conscious of how powerful blackness is. In this, I am unashamedly inspired by the work of NZ photographer Fiona Pardingdon, and in particular her exhibition A Beautiful Hesitation, which I visited multiple times and have never ceased to be enthralled by.
Thanks to Desley Jane at Musings of a Frequently Flying Scientist for Five Minutes of Random (the RegularRandom challenge) which gave me the perfect excuse to spend some quality time with a bunch of dying flowers and a lot of black space.
All photos ©Su Leslie, 2017