I have been trying to photograph a vase of baby’s breath for quite a while now. The stems were part of a larger bouquet, just filler for the fancier flowers. But as those flowers passed away, the baby’s breath remained, tall and strong though with a certain fragility.
This morning as I sat at the kitchen table thinking about the chaos in many a friend and family member’s life right now, people who are bearing the weight of so much sadness, my eyes kept falling upon the vase of baby’s breath. The light from that same sun that struck the green sage mentioned in an earlier post now fell upon fine white petals.
Against the backdrop of a window still covered in frost, the petals reminded me of fresh fallen snow with the dazzle of glistening flakes and the accompanying quiet that descends upon the land. In those moments, I always think of snow as a beautiful thing.
I once wrote a poem about white being the color of sadness. When I wrote those words years ago, that feeling was true. Today I feel differently. I don’t know what color sadness is for me today, but I know it is not white.
Words + Images 