In the early hours, before the weight of the world's news settles upon my shoulders, I cherish the morning's arrival. It is a time untouched by the clamor of emails, messages, and never-ending Zoom calls. A time when innocence and hope intertwine with the cool breeze in an awakening landscape.
With each early morning stride, memories of embarking on the Camino de Santiago before the break of dawn come flooding back, intertwining with the essence of my cherished wanderings upon the captivating Dutch island.
And while each season possesses its own allure, spring, when life returns, holds my heart captive. It is the season of tulips on the island and in Ottawa, and it evokes memories of the blossom of the horse-chestnut trees in Paris. It is the season when the chorus of birdsong awakens me, their melodic voices weaving tales of love and, soon after, of new beginnings.
This morning is no different, and I stop for a while on the lakeside to talk with a birder equipped with an impressive Canon to shoot pictures of owls. He shows me some and asks if I have noticed any of these magnificent birds today. I haven't, but, seeing his slight disappointment, I tell him of the young fox that walked up to me, stopped, and then ran away. The photographer asks directions and walks off to the path I came from, leaving me amidst the birds' symphony of nature and wondering where to place his peculiar accents on the world map.
This morning, it is not the birds or even that beautiful young fox but the flowers that command my gaze. Each of these small wonders is a testament to the grandeur of creation, independent of belief or knowledge about its workings.
I love to take my time to study the delicate petals and intricate details of each flower and wonder how so much beauty is so often overlooked by the hurried passerby. When taking the time in the early morning to observe, I see a world of wonder to admire, reminiscent of seeing a snowflake magnified for the first time. That was in my school days, and I still remember how horrified I was to trample upon the freshly fallen snow when walking back home, a destroyer of beauty unseen by others.
Only years later, when knowing some words in English, I learned Bette's wisdom about the seed that lies below the bitter snows and that, with the sun's love, it will become the rose in springtime; perhaps it was then that I realized it is my favorite season.
Growing up, I started to see the world as mine to explore. But many years later, that feeling gave way to another paradigm of admiration for all it exhibits and my responsibility to protect it. My endless global playground turned into a grand museum, its halls adorned with the masterpieces of nature. And amongst these hallowed walls, the flowers reign supreme. A feast of Darwin's survival of the beauties, or for others of a divine touch, nature has fashioned these intricate works of art.
As long as mankind created art, we focussed on the flower to recreate its splendor, but humankind's mimicry consistently failed. Throughout the ages, artists have strived to capture even a fraction of nature's magnificence; Monet's Water Lilies came close, or Van Gogh's Sunflowers, but the true essence of the flower remains elusive, preserved solely within nature's realm.
Examine the individual petals, and you will discover a tapestry of shades and hues, each unique in its existence. Zoom out, and witness the harmonious interplay of shapes, colors, and forms. These flowery masterpieces will remain long after we relinquish our dominion over this planet. They will persist long after the tides of time have washed over the remnants of our existence. And I can't help but wonder, when our reign has faded, will the following species to inherit this realm appreciate the delicate majesty of the flowers that grace their kingdom?
All this to say that I hope you will derive pleasure from these photographs captured during my morning sojourn. They offer a glimpse into the profound artistry of the natural world. Some of these treasures I stumbled upon in the relatively untamed wilderness, while others found their home in meticulously tended gardens I passed. I hope these photos will remind you of the boundless beauty surrounding us, waiting patiently to be discovered, appreciated, and protected. In that order, as my journey through life, and as many of you hopefully recognize in your journeys.
Enjoy more photos; click here.
Which one do you like most?
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“Pay attention. Be astonished. Tell about it.” ~ Mary Oliver
Awakening of the senses. Colours infused between spaces and lines. Time suspended in words. Excellent.
Could not possibly pick a favorite here; they are all so very lovely. I am most familiar with the daylilly as I have orange blooms that grow with vigor every year according to their own design; they will not be coaxed into any order or place. Patches appear and thrive here and there without any human contact. Your words, descriptors are poetry and so welcome on these troubled shores of America where the news of indictments consume and divide us much like a jackhammer by the media. This respite is so very welcome as I still languish reading in bed while my fur kids snooze as well. I love weekend days for I give myself the freedom to ignore the hysteria and pundits and just revel in joy for a while. Thank you for accommodating my weekend passions. 😘🪷🕊️