From a recent trip to Longwood Gardens. The closer you look the more alien and abstract the landscapes become.
Somehow the post got lost in the ether(net). So here’s what it was supposed to be–
28 And why are you anxious about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin,29 yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. – Matthew 6:28-29
I admit, I’m prone to being anxious about many things that are out of my control. (Clothing not really being one of those though, as my wife can attest.)
An unplanned Palm Sunday afternoon spent wandering around Longwood Gardens, just considering God’s creation, really is a great antidote to anxiety. Even more so when you consider the Creator.
All things considered, no worries.
Coming into work I cross over the Schuylkill River every morning, just about halfway to the office. I’m usually a little foggy myself, but I always enjoy my glimpse of the river as I cross over. “How are the fish biting today? Is the water up? Wish I was putting in the kayak for a paddle.” These kinds of thoughts run through my head, but then I’m past it, and on up the hill to work.
This morning though, as it sometimes is in the spring, it was otherworldly crossing over the bridge. The colors had all drained away and it was nearly impossible to tell where the river left off and the sky began. I stopped to just look at it for a while, and saw this shot in my head before I even took it.
It seemed like an interesting metaphor for many mornings. You kind of emerge from the fog of sleep, to be faced with all these tangled issues that twirl and branch and seem insurmountable, but the fog dissolves and slowly the way, somewhere in between, usually appears.
Its funny how on the way home, I usually get a sunset off the water, the river once again reflecting the day. Sometimes you’ve just got to keep rolling on, whether you can see what’s coming or not.
Bent, but not broken. A little bowed down, getting snowy on top, but ready to bounce back.
Its just for a season.
A shot for the Weekly Photo Challenge
Been a while since I posted any images, but I’ve been traveling a lot (and shooting some). Recently went to Longwood Gardens to see the Nightscape exhibition. We got there early enough to walk in the Meadows just at sunset, which is just an incredible place. I took a bunch with just my iPhone and have been experimenting with some digital tools to get a painterly, expressionist feel.
I like the sense of urgency in this shot but also the security and hope of home being just in sight.
“This hill, though high, I covet to ascend;
The difficulty will not me offend.
For I perceive the way to life lies here.
Come, pluck up, heart; let’s neither faint nor fear.
Better, though difficult, the right way to go,
Than wrong, though easy, where the end is woe.”
― John Bunyan,
We went to Longwood Gardens in Chaddsford, PA yesterday. It’s one of the world’s great botanical gardens, and we’re fortunate to have it close by. We’ve been able to visit in every season, and it is beautiful and different every time. This trip I decided to try to look past the waves of color and get up close and personal. I wanted to work on creating compositions that were almost more like abstract paintings then photos. I haven’t published anything for a while, nice to get back out and shoot some.
We sit here alone together, sharing a communal space, completely engrossed in our communication devices yet not communicating at all. Netflix, selfies, Words with Friends that really aren’t, Candy Crush, just mind-numbing diversions.
I am just as guilty as anyone else. Our smartphones and tablets throw up our invisible force fields- our cones of silence- protecting us from social awkwardness, inadvertently catching someone’s eye, or worst of all- loneliness. We are disconnected in an overly connected world.
We gather In what, in another age or place, is a nexus for neighborly chats, town info, deep discussions and random scuttlebutt. We’ll have none of it though. Instead we sit hunched over steaming lattes and streaming displays, earbuds in for extra protection, aimlessly thumbing through 140-characters-or-less slugs of inanity and six second bursts of feline video hijinks.
I’m tempted to just walk over to a random table, plop down and and strike up a conversation. But I am of an age and size that makes that either intimidating or really creepy (or both), so I’m just sitting here documenting it visually. Just little digital sketches of us all alone- together. And I’m not going to lie, I do like the coffee.