Careful observance
I'm near-sighted, so often times I don't look around enough...I can't see everything.
But when I do notice small details: a play of light and shadow, an interesting reflection, a juxtaposition of color...
I become overwhelmed, fascinated, obsessive.
I want to notice the fine points in the life, like what Andrea talks about.
I was in the PL bagel shop in Point Loma last year, sitting at a cafe table enjoying a cheesy melt on an everything bagel (a little slice of Heaven right there), when I looked up and noticed the sunlight coming through the painted sign on the window was casting the letters onto the plain white counter.
(you can click on the image to enlarge. The icon 'all sizes' over Flickr images enables you to resize them)
Something about this just sends me.
Not too shabby considering it was taken with my cheap camera phone.
Or recently when my mom and I attended a quilt show at the Convention Center in Ontario, we were sitting down for lunch and I started noticing all sorts of wonderful geometric shapes in the shadows.
And the view from the lobby to the trees blowing in the wind outside just captivated me.
I took out my phone again and snapped 17 images, of which this is one
I took my storage chip from my phone to Costco to be developed, and the employee said, "uh, it says you have 92 pictures on here--could that be right?!"
Me: "um, I guess so".
Employee: "you must be snapping all the time".
Me: "Doesn't everyone?"
How is it that I don't have a digital camera yet?
When I went to see Charles Phoenix at the Escondido Performing Arts Center, my eyes were drawn upward to the hanging light fixtures...
a work of art.
(again, sorry for the quality, just my camera phone, but still worthy of sharing)
Several years ago, I knew a woman who had a couple of small children. She would take them out into the backyard and they would explore and discover together.
The caterpillar on the underside of a leaf, worms within the earth, the stamens in a lily and how the powder stains...
She taught them to embrace the details.
Her enthusiasm has always stuck with me--its gentle teaching, its respect.
Its observance of the intricacies that make life so inviting.
I'm not a rose person (unless they're single petal varieties).
I tend to gravitate to more unusual flowers, like Queen Anne's Lace, or wildflowers.
I was at an Asian market recently, and was stopped in my tracks by the beauty of a peach tree in blossom.
Or the brilliant color of the Pride of Madera
But when I do notice small details: a play of light and shadow, an interesting reflection, a juxtaposition of color...
I become overwhelmed, fascinated, obsessive.
I want to notice the fine points in the life, like what Andrea talks about.
I was in the PL bagel shop in Point Loma last year, sitting at a cafe table enjoying a cheesy melt on an everything bagel (a little slice of Heaven right there), when I looked up and noticed the sunlight coming through the painted sign on the window was casting the letters onto the plain white counter.
(you can click on the image to enlarge. The icon 'all sizes' over Flickr images enables you to resize them)
Something about this just sends me.
Not too shabby considering it was taken with my cheap camera phone.
Or recently when my mom and I attended a quilt show at the Convention Center in Ontario, we were sitting down for lunch and I started noticing all sorts of wonderful geometric shapes in the shadows.
And the view from the lobby to the trees blowing in the wind outside just captivated me.
I took out my phone again and snapped 17 images, of which this is one
I took my storage chip from my phone to Costco to be developed, and the employee said, "uh, it says you have 92 pictures on here--could that be right?!"
Me: "um, I guess so".
Employee: "you must be snapping all the time".
Me: "Doesn't everyone?"
How is it that I don't have a digital camera yet?
When I went to see Charles Phoenix at the Escondido Performing Arts Center, my eyes were drawn upward to the hanging light fixtures...
a work of art.
(again, sorry for the quality, just my camera phone, but still worthy of sharing)
Several years ago, I knew a woman who had a couple of small children. She would take them out into the backyard and they would explore and discover together.
The caterpillar on the underside of a leaf, worms within the earth, the stamens in a lily and how the powder stains...
She taught them to embrace the details.
Her enthusiasm has always stuck with me--its gentle teaching, its respect.
Its observance of the intricacies that make life so inviting.
I'm not a rose person (unless they're single petal varieties).
I tend to gravitate to more unusual flowers, like Queen Anne's Lace, or wildflowers.
I was at an Asian market recently, and was stopped in my tracks by the beauty of a peach tree in blossom.
Or the brilliant color of the Pride of Madera
Labels: gardening, photograph, san diego
4 Comments:
Getting and using my digital camera has really changed the way I look at things. I keep it with me constantly and have managed to capture things I never have before.
Great pictures! Even with a camera phone! I just got a really good digital for my birthday and am excited to see what it can do. Sorry you found Grey Gardens disturbing. There really isn't an ending per se to the documentary. Big Edie died several years later at the house and little Edie died in Miami in 2001 I believe. When you watch the extras on the DVD, both of them come off as a lot more lucid than in the documentary. Which I guess is why I didn't really find it disturbing. To me, they were two highly eccentric stubborn old ladies that were living exactly how they wanted to live (based on the choices they made) and not caring at all what people thought. I'd love to see the broadway play.
What an uplifting post! Tomorrow I vow to pay more attention to the smaller things - thanks:)
Great post and wonderful pictures.
Speaking as a fellow myope (and as one in the ophthalmic trade lo these many years), I'd say you have a good eye!
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