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Posts Tagged ‘flowers’

I knew it was going to be a long day of traveling from site to site, and so I told a friend that I would send him dispatches from the road.

Instead, I find myself choosing to share some dispatches from the kitchen as part of a quick coffee break. 

Okay, a last sip, and then back out into the day. Have a good one, folks. 😉

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In the field next door behind the chain link fence grow dandelions.  Above the yellow heads skim white butterflies.  A few starlings walk about.  No other animals do I see.  Green grass uncut.  A few scattered purple pansies.  And, always, always, the ash gray and brown bark of the nearby dying trees.

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A few images from a return visit to a field in Woburn, Massachusetts.

A very small field in an office park with an amazing variety of wildlife present.

I wasn’t set up to photograph the birds (or record their symphony of birdsong) though I kept catching flashes of bright orange, red, black and gold feathers.

As always, I scared a few rabbits deeper into the underbrush.

No hawks this time or foxes.

In the end …

I mostly focused on the landscape.

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The view outside one of my windows, after the rains ended.  The sun still shines.  I know that I am a lucky person.

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p.s. A few folks have asked where this flower shop is located.  You can learn more here.

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The recipe for this photo shoot:  a few sprigs of baby’s breath, a small red bowl, a gold saucer, one stone, and a square of blue cloth.

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The sun finally shone bright, or at least, just bright enough to revisit the orchid.

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The major stems, leaves and unopened buds are jade green while the petals are pale green and freckled with apricot.  A lovely gift that now resides in the kitchen in the grayness of a rainy afternoon.

Many buds wait to open, and so we’ll see what happens in the coming days once the sun reappears in its gold cloak.

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Of late, I’ve met a man from a war-torn country who now lives and works in the U.S.  He has described to me scenes of great brutality inflicted by man upon man for reasons like this person looked like someone from that country versus this country.  He often has a smile on his face.

I am noted for seeing even an empty glass as half-full, but this man’s ability to find the positive puts me to shame.  Why is he so happy?  Not because he has a job that pays exceptionally well. He doesn’t.  Not because he’s made many new friends in this country.  He hasn’t.  I think it is because, even as the soil ran red with blood around him, he remained open to the possibilities.  He saw the beauty amidst the horror, like the flowers blossoming near that same bloody field.

He remained hopeful.  Or, as he once told me, he has love in his heart and so long as you have love, what else do you need? Hmmm.

One day I did chance upon him not smiling. I asked the first question that came to mind. “Do you still have love in your heart?”  He did not react with surprise to my words.  His brow furrowed in deep thought.  After a moment, he nodded, and then he smiled broadly.  “Yes, Cynthia.  Yes I do!”

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