Sun Flower

As a photographer, I am average, at best. 

I take photos of plants and landscapes that speak to me.

What do I hear? What do they say? Only I know that I must look closer. So I do that through the camera viewfinder. I share these because somehow or other they have spell bound me. And I like that. I hope you have a similar experience.

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Sun. Flower. Tell me more about the Sun and flowers.

Is that flower wild?

Or is it just having fun?

I had the joy of observing these two patches of flowers yesterday.

One is wild in the woods and the other is wild in the garden. Judging books by their covers, are we?

But someone has written that having a book in your pocket is like having a garden in your pocket. Then where do the wild flowers belong?

But anywhere you find them, they are a discovery pleasure of spring.

Wild in the garden

Wild in the woods

Had to Catch a Bus

Had to catch a bus today. Once a week I have therapy and I get there by bus. Well, on the way…it is mid-March in the Berner Oberlands and March came in like a lion with Russian wind and cold from Siberia. The first two weeks felt the harsh results.

But this morning, on my way to catch the bus, I saw the promise of spring realized. I had to stop and photograph.

Is today the day? For sure.

And even I was still 10 minutes early for a bus that is always on time. Temperature had risen above 50 degree fahrenheit. Mild for mid-March. I sat down and took one more photo before the bus.

Deep breath of fresh water lake air. No chill. Yes, spring.

I just can’t help myself

Where oh where can the apples be?

It is the middle of the northern hemisphere winter.

The time of death.

The time of life hidden.

Yet when I look at these mature apple trees, smiles of hope well up inside me.

My imagination sees apple blossoms;

Smells apple blossoms;

Tastes apples off the tree;

Tastes apple pies;

Tastes apfelcheuchli;

And having had my senses gratified, I sleep peacefully.

Please share your apple thoughts and memories.

Mature Imagination and Youth

Wisteria floribunda gently stirs…youthful fragrance…mature strength.

Imagine

late April

Northern hemisphere

Spring moisture

17 degrees centigrade

cloudless sky

mid morning

faint breeze…

…just enough to stir these sweet fragrances

and you will have no doubt…

as you gently and deeply inhale…

A mature spring is about.

About dandelions

***Warning Hate Inside***

When I was a kid, my dad used to send me out in the front yard lawn, early spring, saying, “Get rid of the dandelions—and get out all the roots, too.”

Never, I never won that battle. Always more dandelions and always more vociferous exhortations from my dad.

Dandelion hate. Part of my childhood.

Well, I’ve grown up and now live in a new neighborhood.

And by golly did I have fun yesterday glorifying in the 500 meters above sea level central Switzerland landscape—dancing with the dandelions.

A sea, waves of dandelions in all their floriferous glory. Dancing away my hate.

Dandelions…no matter how seen,

Glowing with energy,

The light of the field.

I’m sure they have forgiven me.

 

The dandelion landscape…er…seascape.

 

Dancing dandelions

 

Dandelion bounce–it’s fun

 

Dandelion threesome

 

Dandelion dominatrix

 

Spring Snow Showers

Northern range of the Swiss Alps.

Last third of April–lots of spring flowers–violets going by–winter clothes put away–boom–spring snow showers.

 

Violas, violet, over oak.

 

Snow showers–normal April the locals say.

 

Snow flakes–dancing and jolly as if they are enjoying the joke.