I still do not know what to call the flower/plant. I'm still wowed by the design of the flower's stamen.
I went back to the woods to try to find the plant again.
It took a bit...it is a one of a kind as near as I can tell, but I wanted to take another picture.
This time I wanted to shoot the flowers so one can get an idea of just how tiny they really are.
On the day I first photographed the flowers I was walking briskly, keeping my heart rate up, and the little bits of blue amidst a low lying gangly plant beside the path didn't grab my interest. It was the end of my walk, I was heading home and I had gotten several other pictures that I thought were interesting already.
It wasn't until I downloaded the picture and zoomed in on the flowers that I discovered how really beautiful they were.
About a year into photo blogging I finally learned a truth: If anything catches my eye, and my mind is still tinkering with what I saw five second later, I go back and take a picture. There usually is something there worth capturing.
I am working on a shorter reaction time. Sometimes five seconds is all it takes for the image to be gone forever.
It would be interesting to count how many people walk, jog or bike by that plant and never notice it, never stop to see it.
Even if they do stop, it is unlikely they will know what the flower really looks like, unless they get down on their knees and really, really look, or pull out a magnifying glass.
So much of life is like that.
Small wonders, like a single perfect heartbeat, or a baby's sigh, or a spouse's admiring glance just flicker by.
I know I can't stop and take a picture of each tiny splendor as it happens.
But I do try to remember that they do happen.
Zoom in on them in my mind.
And celebrate them from time to time.
(The flowers really are as blue as the close up pictures.)
It wasn't until I downloaded the picture and zoomed in on the flowers that I discovered how really beautiful they were.
About a year into photo blogging I finally learned a truth: If anything catches my eye, and my mind is still tinkering with what I saw five second later, I go back and take a picture. There usually is something there worth capturing.
I am working on a shorter reaction time. Sometimes five seconds is all it takes for the image to be gone forever.
It would be interesting to count how many people walk, jog or bike by that plant and never notice it, never stop to see it.
Even if they do stop, it is unlikely they will know what the flower really looks like, unless they get down on their knees and really, really look, or pull out a magnifying glass.
So much of life is like that.
Small wonders, like a single perfect heartbeat, or a baby's sigh, or a spouse's admiring glance just flicker by.
I know I can't stop and take a picture of each tiny splendor as it happens.
But I do try to remember that they do happen.
Zoom in on them in my mind.
And celebrate them from time to time.
(The flowers really are as blue as the close up pictures.)
2 comments:
It just occured to me what a gift digital photography is. You are so right about those moments in time. . .
The little flowers are oh so beautiful. They should be stitched onto a hankie or something. remember those?
Beautiful flowers. I've seen them in the woods, but don't know what they are. Sorry I couldn't help.
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