Flying Cloud Farm is only 6 miles from my apartment. They have community UPick flower fields, so I find myself there with my macro lens pretty often.
Here are some shots of my garden from earlier in the week. The tomatoes in the front bed are about two feet taller than I am right now and I think collectively they threaten to bring down the stakes. Next year I’ll opt for metal instead of wood.
My first dahlia bloomed! (!!!!!!!!)
Ammi and zinnias.
Not pictured below: the squash and the cucumbers that won’t stop growing.
Pictured below: very tasty pickles.
Garden critters – including a monarch caterpillar! There are at least 5 of them nestled in the milkweed and we’re all really excited about watching them pupate.
There is a national park in the middle of nowhere in the middle of South Carolina. Who knew. It’s a pretty cool place with a really neat history. The cypress trees were beautiful. Here are some pics from an afternoon moseying around.
Some photos from a few different walks in the woods in April. Jack-in-the-pulpit, more spring beauty, trillium, fleabane, more ragwort, dutchman’s breeches, tons of violets, and a beautiful swallowtail I encountered on the trail one evening.
Spending time in the woods yesterday reminded me of yet another Mary Oliver poem: ‘How I go to the woods’.
Ordinarily, I go to the woods alone, with not a single friend, for they are all smilers and talkers and therefore unsuitable.
I don’t really want to be witnessed talking to the catbirds or hugging the old black oak tree. I have my way of praying, as you no doubt have yours.
Besides, when I am alone I can become invisible. I can sit on the top of a dune as motionless as an uprise of weeds, until the foxes run by unconcerned. I can hear the almost unhearable sound of the roses singing.
If you have ever gone to the woods with me, I must love you very much.
There is magic in quiet mornings. Mary Oliver sums it up in one of my favorite poems, ‘Softest of Mornings’. (Okay, every poem Mary Oliver ever wrote is my favorite…)
Softest of mornings, hello. And what will you do today, I wonder, to my heart? And how much honey can the heart stand, I wonder, before it must break?
This is trivial, or nothing: a snail climbing a trellis of leaves and the blue trumpets of flowers.
No doubt clocks are ticking loudly all over the world. I don’t hear them. The snail’s pale horns extend and wave this way and that as her fingers-body shuffles forward, leaving behind the silvery path of her slime.
Oh, softest of mornings, how shall I break this? How shall I move away from the snail, and the flowers? How shall I go on, with my introspective and ambitious life?
I was walking through a residential neighborhood in West Asheville earlier in the week when I spotted dozens of crocus on the edge of the lawn ahead. I spent a good 30 minutes sitting there on the sidewalk admiring them. : )
It’s amazing the difference a week can make. I did a few neighborhood walks during some time off last week, and here are some other pops of color I saw.
A post from weeks and weeks ago included a pic of a mantid egg sac. It’s still there among the horsetail grass! I looked it up and learned that this mantid sack has probably been there since around the first frost of the season last year. It will hatch sometime after spring begins. I am going to go back and relocate this sweet thing to my daughter’s grandmother’s garden. There will be plenty of things for the nymphs to eat when they emerge and I want to be there with my macro lens to document their growing up. I love mantids. Females that eat their male counterpart are bad ass in my book. ♀
Here are some colorful shots of zinnias from over the summer. They’re one of my favorite flowers.
Looking through these sweet flower photos has inspired me to start an exciting new project: seed starting and building a raised bed garden behind my apartment. My lady neighbors are on board, too, so it’s going to be an all women’s community garden effort. ♀️
This year has been a real doozy, and covid will probably stick around for a bit longer. I’m really excited about creative new projects coming down the pipe. Stay tuned and here is to hoping that I don’t kill my sweet seedlings. 🌱☀️🍅
This isn’t a flower, but, damnit, 2020 was weird (!!!), so here is a sweet lil green reminder that spring is coming soon enough. I am literally having trouble waiting for all of the sweet Appalachian wildflowers to start blooming in these mountains. The first sign of bloodroot on the trail and I’m going to absolutely lose it. Aside from daffodils popping up in random places, the bloodroot is my favorite spring harbinger.
One thing that’s going to help me pass the time between now and the sweet bloodroots popping up: I’ve signed up for a super interesting 6 week photography workshop. There will be weekly assignments, discussions, and feedback. It’s a collaboration workshop based on an exhibit put on by a local art museum here and the Whitney Museum of American Art in NY, NY. It focuses on the power of narrative in photography, and I am looking forward to learning a lot and meeting some really amazing photographers. 🙂
I’m spending a lot of time looking at old pics of sweet summer flowers and lush green landscapes. After I post here, I’m going to spend a few hours doing crafts in the sunshine. January/February are always a little tough because we get these teaser 70 degree weather days. Guess I better go out and enjoy it. 🙂