From Below

“Part of what gives a flower such charge is that, even as we plunge our face into its blowsy petals, 
and enjoy its heady scent, we know that tomorrow it may have turned.”
—Lucy Davies, New Photography of the Flower.

The anemones are from my own flower garden, the patch that runs alongside the sidewalk to our home. The zinnias are from the flower farm at Garner’s Produce in Warsaw, Virginia. Both photos were taken on this hot and sunny August day. Both photos also required that I lie on my back and shoot pictures from ground level, up into the sky. The zinnias were taken mid-morning when the skies were blue with puffy clouds, and I had to aim at an angle because I only had my 85mm lens with me. I also had to lie down in the garden dirt. The anemone photo was taken in early evening as the sun faded—no clouds, just the rim of the oak trees in our yard. Because I had a comfy quilt to lie upon, I was able to aim pretty much directly overhead into the sky.

My hip hurts a bit from all the getting down and back up again, over and over. I’ve used my foam roller to reset my body and scheduled a day of rest for tomorrow. Still, I feel good for the effort and happy with the pictures made from below, looking up to the underside of the flowers.

When Things Are Messy

Hibiscus, The Flower Shack, Providence Forge, Virginia

It’s worth mentioning that my photographs are mostly about color and geometry and our emotional response to both of those things.

This is especially true when it comes to the floral portraits I’ve been working on lately. But behind all of that careful composition, gardens are actually quite messy.

This is the in-between time. Before the next succession of flowers that will come with early fall. I am eagerly anticipating heirloom chrysanthemums and more dahlias.

In the meantime, I am embracing the messiness of gardens as part of the process, and feeling immensely grateful that the anxious girl who could not tolerate such disarray has grown into the woman who loves it all.

Flower Farms

When I first began this project, my intended goal was to photograph the flowers I received in my weekly flower subscription during the spring season. But the work did not feel complete after only one season, so I kept going. Along the way, it felt right to visit the farms where the flowers were grown and pick my own. This turned out to be a great decision that has kept us on adventures all summer long. Many people say that communication is the secret to a good marriage, but I’m not so sure. I think it’s that feeling of connection that keeps us in harmony. Pulling over to buy flowers from a roadside stand. Eating a packed lunch in the car. Me reading aloud to him. Embracing the life we have. Best date ever.

Sparrowhurst Flower Farm, Charles City, Virginia, Summer 2026

Vases and More

And then there are vases.

Most vases are recurring obligations disguised as home accessories. You buy one because it looks beautiful, then bring it home and realize you’ve also purchased a weekly reminder that there are no flowers in it. It stands there with its hands on its hips while you walk past carrying groceries, trying not to make eye contact.

So I’m careful with vases. If it can’t survive empty, I don’t want the pressure. A vase should have enough shape, material and presence to function as sculpture first. Flowers can visit. They shouldn’t be required to complete the sentence.

—Colin King, When One Thing Is Enough

There’s a lot to say about this picture.

I came across this vase in a thrift shop, but it was still pricey at $19.99. When I looked it up using Google Lens, it appeared to be a vintage Murano glass Jack-in-the-pulpit vase, worth quite a bit more than twenty bucks. I’m not really concerned with how much money something is worth (I am not a re-seller of things). And I’m not a collector of colored glass objects of art. I just buy what I like. This tall vase kind of had me stumped. I knew I liked the shape and the colors, but was not at all certain I could figure out a way to use it in a photograph for my current project. My florilegium project is, at its heart, a celebration of flowers, not the vessels and vases that hold them. Nevertheless, the vases definitely give interest to the florilegium photographs and are important supporting cast members. But no way is this vase not going to steal the show.

In order to make a decent effort at this photo, I knew I would need long-stemmed flowers, which meant another trip to the flower farm to cut flowers of the needed height (measured up to my knee). This is hot, sweaty work since the temperatures hover around 90 degrees every day in August here in Virginia. My husband was a good sport and carried the bucket along as I clipped zinnias from the field last evening.

I got up early this morning and headed out to my studio garage to see if I could figure this out. Since it was so early, I had to turn on the small task lamp at my workbench so I could swap lenses and clip stems and such. I hung my orange cardboard on the wall and covered the old wooden table with white paper. I usually work with natural light only, but I happened to notice that the light from the task lamp was shining onto my scene, creating lively shadows. It was a very interesting look, almost as though I was using flash. And I liked it. I played with the zinnias—all in the vase, one flower leaning against the vase, flowers piled at the base, and so on. I was surprised by how much fun this was. There it is again, that healing action, PLAY.

Since this work was happening shortly after dawn, I had to turn the ISO up pretty high, and I wondered if the flowers and the vase would be in focus. Would there be too much grain or a lot of noise? It looked like the image might be worth the extra work of setting up the tripod. I sighed and grumbled, but I did the necessary work. Then I was able to lower the ISO to 100 and get a nice clean image.

It might sound as though I made or took or captured this image. But that’s not how it felt. It felt as though I was receiving it. By being open to the idea of playing with what could happen, even at dawn, still in my pajamas (before I brushed my teeth or took my shower), the picture was given to me. This is low-stakes work. I’m not working to make a photograph for a client; there is no commission. I’m not selling anything or tied to any specific result. I just wanted to see what would happen. And at most, I’d be out $20 for a lovely sculptural vase. This is what I love about being an amateur. I do this work because I love it.