Tuesday, July 06, 2010
I've been trotting backwards and forwards to the Little Green Shed, down the rough concrete path beneath a long archway of rambling roses. They are amazing; they seem to start as yellow buds, but turn into pink and white beauties, lots of them. They just get on with it, seem to thrive on benign neglect (which is all a plant in my garden can hope for, really). I kept thinking that it would be good to take a photograph of them, get up a ladder and do close ups...but me and ladders? Not a good idea...and the plastic step I could have used is more stable but has a perished foot, and pitches me off at entirely the wrong moment, usually onto my nose.
And then I saw the petals, blowing about in the wind... and took several photographs, including this one. And realised that this was really what I was after; the petals themselves, scattered, delicate, wistful... And I will print them out on Big Bertha, probably on Evolon, and stitch into them... and we'll see what happens.
I wonder how many opportunities like this we miss, because we're not paying attention? Too busy worrying about what to have for the tea, when to go to the post office, how to promote the next book... Sometimes, though, the eye overtakes the brain, and photographs like this one are the result. Thank goodness!