Natural and manmade silently juxtaposed, constructed poles off the mark, crooked, leaning, despite attempted anchoring, branches gravitating in the right direction, toward the Light of the World,
rooted in belief, faith running deep, grasping earth, dirt, free of concrete, sand and soil offerings supporting vertical inner growth to break ground, breathe air, sprout, bloom, reach, embraced, loving whispers saying you are beautiful.
When the artificial light goes out, I am able to clearly see.
Obstructed view, no view, no proof: nothing needed.
Even after the sun retires from rising, inside the seed of me will be found this unshakable
I don’t usually like to know the scientific facts about the subjects I find and photograph in nature, even basic identification. It spoils the wonder and mystery to me, the thrill of all my imagination hatches, the magic, the mysticism, the fantasy, the tales, the divine creation we think we know all about. These are my discoveries; I am the first explorer to ever lay eyes on the new species. Instead of sketching them in my diary, I photograph them; I am both from the future and the past.
I couldn’t resist though peeking into the portal of cyberspace regarding this spectacular mushroom variety I haven’t seen before (I don’t think…). “Puffballs” they are, supposedly common. And of course, as reading when you are a born lifelong reader tends to go, I read a bit more… They have a poisonous “Death Cap” doppelgänger, well imposter anyway, being the most interesting fact to me.
These I spotted underfoot between my car and classroom back door going into work the other day. To photograph them meant anyone could be watching and definitely would wonder even more about me. Of course, I risked it all and got down low and took the shot. It was too intriguing in and of itself but also because they were paired and the morning light and shadows were beautiful. I love couplets of anything in nature because I am a romantic. I also champion the overlooked or undervalued in nature, especially weeds and fungi.
Where to begin with what I could spin from this encounter and image souvenir?…
Two as one connected, shadows merging, agreed to be shared,
to increase the surface area so the darkness lightens in lichen-like dual-stabilization: paired.
One absorbs more sun than the other but feeds its partner the light not so directly;
at times they reverse roles when the other needs to shrink into safety awhile and be protected temporarily.
The world passes by, so many times before both cruelly and unknowingly treading upon them;
others of their kind turned poisonous, but these two remain true to themselves and their commitment,
not letting others’ judgement affect their joy or quality of life and above all love,
testament to there being someone for everyone and such a connection vital, to feel that touch, to trust…
or maybe I am seeing too much in these balls of mushroom puffs I stumbled upon on my way to work this morn.
Determined to counter the moody clouds others have been attempting to cast onto me, I choose to seek out the sun, spring-infuse myself, dip my soul into the fresh-blooming green,
breathe in the revitalizing April air, let the warming rays seep in through my pores, absorbed more in the whole of the reborn panorama than focused on the details imploring to be explored,
labrador-blue heeler happy for any outdoor adventure, not a hike but a mutually restorative leisurely linger, ahhh…a new season…
Circling back to the start, back to the car, I am not allowed to leave, it seems, until Mother Nature imparts a lesson, whispers words of wisdom through some not-new, refusing-to-be-forgotten leaves from two seasons ago, still here, and starkly so, weathered, fossilized autumn,
a reminder of the past not so easily dismissed; buried or not, it insists on revisits, coming to you if you neglect it, but what we make of what is, that is the endless work or blessing depending on the nature of what was– bright, shiny yellow of yesterday against the conglomerate of rocks, man-manipulated into asphalt, a yellow sickness or stubborn fading sun, either way the marring, tattered edges and holes, do not seem to take the whole, still here despite the winter with a fortitude to witness, to reunite with the green it was itself once.
I see a reminder that we can turn our back on the past and run to spring, but all seasons remain, never really leave, inside us always are the memories, tears of joy and loss, the scars of life; we can embrace it all, co-exist in peace with all that is inside.
I choose to find the positive, even in the stumbling upon the past in my determined celebration of the present moments, all presents indeed, and then I find a smile in the concrete when I see yet another unexpected chapter of a love story, so pure and yet to be complete…
I wonder what those resigned to defeat see. Perception can sting regardless, some things we simply must feel but perspective… that is the key in our control and possession, a powerful tool we can self-weld and self-wield, manipulate, to preserve our internal peace.
Laura Denise 