Terracotta | Pumpkins

  1. I spent the morning in gardens and fields, shoes muddy, knees damp.

  2. I vowed no more pumpkin pictures and then changed my mind when I saw the field of less-than-perfect pumpkins.

  3. Walking around the gardens, I couldn’t see anything differently. Finally I asked the gardener if I could walk inside the shed and there they were. Terracotta pots stacked, bathed in a swath of light in the dark shed, waiting for me.

  4. There is a universal truth that we suddenly experience clarifying gratitude when we realize that the things and people we love may be taken away at any time. More and more, I see that documenting my home is fraught with suspicion. The days of freely taking pictures seem long gone. I always ask for permission. I choose carefully where I aim my camera. But in this field, in this garden, I am welcome and photography is encouraged. I feel the freedom of full expression.

  5. Even if if the day comes where this hobby is set aside for one reason or another, the carousel of slides in my mind will comfort me.

I was on my way to physical therapy when the receptionist called to let me know they had to cancel my appointment for today. I decided to make the best of the day, stopping to take pictures along roads I hadn’t explored in a long while.

It’s a hard truth, and really not something I like to discuss in this space. I live with way too much pain these days. I try not to focus on pain, try not to let it define me. But some days are a struggle. And if I am honest, I am afraid that my body will prevent me from doing the things I love, like photography.

“If you’re not watchful, the wonderful is made mundane. But on a good day the mundane can be made miraculous.”

—Ella Frances Sanders, Beauty in the Natural World

I follow many insightful writers and compelling photographers, and some of these folks have become friends over the years. Some I find by way of fine art websites like Lenscratch or Lensculture and these are often people who create as a profession. They have training and awards and long lists of accomplishments. But I also follow a good many ordinary people who make art for the sheer joy of the experience. They learn as they go and put their work out into the world hoping it will land in a soft place. These are my people and one of them is my friend, Elaine Eppler, who shares all things botanical and floral and beautiful over at Greens & Berries.

Thanks, Elaine, for directing me to the work of Ella Saunders and these words to live by : I think you should know what it feels like to walk through wet grass and early spiderwebs while half the world is falling back to sleep.