When I saw the theme of this week’s photo challenge–Motion–I immediately thought of this photo of a bird in silhouette, at just the moment it was taking flight. I happened upon the bird unexpectedly and managed to take only one photo before it flew off. I’m still not sure what type of bird it even was. But I like that this photo captures that split second before the bird became airborne.
This photo is of something I was not expecting. During my recent trip to Rwanda, this gorgeous leaf formation caught my eye. I had never seen anything quite like it. It was a striking burst of color on an otherwise fairly bare branch. When I asked someone what it was, I was surprised to discover that it was a poinsettia, and that poinsettias can grow into small trees up to about 10 feet in height. I had no idea, because to my untrained eye this looks nothing like the potted poinsettias that abound at Christmastime (except perhaps for the red leaves). I’ll take the tree!
So an unexpected encounter led to an unexpected discovery — and I couldn’t be more delighted. The red leaves are called brachts; the actual poinsettia flowers are tiny and yellow.
This week’s theme is “layers,” and of course, my thoughts turned to food–and specifically to onions, whose layers have been the subject of many quotes, mostly about hidden depths and weeping. In my case, I’d be weeping if I didn’t have any onions around. I realize it is probably quite shallow to only think of my stomach in lieu of other, more profound (or perhaps more pungent) observations about this revered member of the allium genus.
But here’s something. The red onion I cut open today had a particularly striking and almost glowing yellow core, so Cyrano de Bergerac’s philosophical musings struck a chord: “And in the Onion, the Germ is the little Sun of that little World, which vivifies and nourishes the vegetative Salt of that little mass.” As the onion itself adds life to so many dishes. I can’t imagine my kitchen without it.
This week’s photo challenge is “infinite.” When we were children, my brother and I used to like seeing images within images within images. If we passed by a storefront displaying such an infinite progression of the same thing (say, a poster of a clown holding a poster that showed the same clown holding a poster that showed the same clown yet again), we would always stop and stare, marveling at how the image could go on forever, perhaps even beyond the point where it was visible to the naked eye. If we couldn’t see it, was it still there?
This photo doesn’t portray an image within an image, but it somehow says “infinite” to me. It’s a long look down the length of a variegated yucca leaf. But because the top and bottom portions are out of focus, with only the middle defined, there doesn’t appear to be any clear beginning or end. The leaf seems suspended in infinity, with the grooves pointing the way to parts unknown.
This week’s photo challenge calls for rich, saturated images. This is a Baby Darling Daylily. The pale blue background makes the colors in the flower–the deep plum petals, spring green stalks and buds, and gold-tipped anthers–appear even more vivid and intense.
Most days, as I walk to the metro and then to my office, or repeat the process in reverse, I don’t think to look upward. The route holds very few surprises any more and I am often lost in thought, mentally cataloging what needs to be done at work, or what can be turned into dinner when I get home. But when I travel, or even when I walk somewhere new in my own neighborhood, I look up more. Delightful discoveries can be found above.
This is one of them–a ceiling in Canterbury Cathedral in England. The lines and patterns here are a sight to behold; the thought and effort that must have gone into creating this visual feast is mind boggling. Photo is in soft focus.
How to picture the inside of something? I first thought of showing the inside of a flower, but I just did that. Various family members offered to open their mouths so I could take a nice photo of their uvulas, but I felt I could surely find something slightly more appealing…. A fruit? A vegetable? I found a tomato outside that had fallen to the ground, with a beautiful hole bored right into the top. If I squinted at just the right angle, I could see all the way inside the tomato. Unfortunately, my camera was not able to replicate the same feat (did I mention I wish I had a macro lens?). So I turned to the time-honored tradition of rummaging through the refrigerator. And there, in all its glory, was half of a red bell pepper. I took it outside (ignoring the raised eyebrows of family members who were convinced I had finally gone off the deep end), balanced it on my lap, and took a photo of its insides.
This photo, taken furtively with my phone, is not a great one. But it is the embodiment of “carefree”: Schnauzer 1 and Schnauzer 2, sleeping on their backs with legs in the air, dreaming of balls to catch and toys to chew, of doorbells to bark at and houses to defend, of future meals and loved ones coming home at the end of the day, and–best of all–dreaming of many a memorable squirrel chase through all the flower beds in the yard.
This week’s theme is “fresh”– perfect for the dog days of summer we are experiencing here on the East Coast of the United States, a time of year when even the dogs don’t want to be outside.
When I think of “fresh,” I tend to think of water in some form or another: morning dew, mountain-fed streams, that spot in an ocean or lake that signals greater depth — a crisp cucumber, chilled watermelon, iced tea, and sorbet.
But to see the pure joy of freshness in motion, nothing quite beats the spray of water from a fountain. The droplets are momentarily suspended in the sun, sparkling with bits of color and beating a staccato on the surface of the water before gravity exerts its final pull.
This photo captures not so much a golden hour, as a golden moment. Winter in San Diego: the sun has just set but its light still lingers, casting a golden glow along the horizon, silhouetting the few hardy surfers remaining in the water, and reflecting off the wet sand. This is twilight. Four minutes later, it is gone.
Perennial Pastimes 