|On the Port Townsend Washington ferry - 1987|
The sun had not yet risen. The sea was indistinguishable from the sky, except that the sea was slightly creases as if a cloth had wrinkles in it. Gradually as the sky whitened a dark line lay on the horizon dividing the sea from the sky and the grey cloth became barred with thick strokes moving, one after another, beneath the surface, following each other, pursuing each other, perpetually.
The Waves – Virginia Woolf – First paragraph of novel
I dream of my Rosemary, and when I am awake, as I deal with
the daily menialities of dusting, washing clothes, dishes and feeding the cats,
I cannot but feel the absence of my once companion. I have been told that I
must soldier on. Working in the garden, that is beginning to look very lovely, is
still melancholic work. I need her advice. Living alone in a garden is like falling in the forest. Nobody would know if they were not there to witness it.
Mid May in a rose garden is a wonderful time. It is only now, as they sporadically bloom here and there (they must do this at night) that roses can compete with my pristine hostas.
|Rosa 'La Belle Sultane' 22 May 2021|
Mid May is scanning season. I scan roses and other plants. Some of the roses I have scanned years back quite a few times. I calculate that I must now have 3000 plant scans, a task I began in 2002. I think sometimes if I had never ever taken portraits or worked for magazines; shot landscapes and street photographs in Mexico, photographed countless undraped woman, would I be known for my plant scans? What is going to happen to all these scans that I am safely storing in double exterior hard drives?
I really do not worry. The process of walking through the garden and selecting my roses (now I am combining them with clematis that they share pots and garden beds) is a calming pleasure. I momentarily do not think of Rosemary as I spot out the specs of dust with my 17 year-old Photoshop. Scanning a rose is as exhilarating as swimming or now riding my bike to buy stuff at Safeway.
|Rosa 'Sombreul' & Hosta 'El Niño' 18 May 2021|
With the pandemic affecting my ability to shoot portraits with my cameras, recording my (our) plants is fun and it keeps me busy in something that seems to be more important than passing the vacuum on the living room floor.
I remember that I took the photograph near Port Townsend because my Rosemary and I saw a film there. It was the 1987 Hope and Glory.
Tonight I will begin to read The Waves.