part of what i love about having to make a still blog photo every day (i don’t always love every part of it) is that it forces me to stay in touch with the seasons wherever i happen to be. not everyone who has spent time in southern france would be able to pinpoint the month of the year this was photographed. but i can look at it and know immediately that that is late september or early october in the languedoc. and i feel as if i am somehow more a part of things for knowing this. i’m looking out from inside the country, not shading my eyes and staring in from the outside.
figs, fennel, and grapes
these two crocuses overlooked a fall vineyard, post-harvest, and an olive grove, not to mention the grounds of château coujan, where the grapes would be made into wine, and the olives into oil. we might all be as cheery as a yellow crocus, if we had been planted in such soil.
coujan, languedoc, france
i love the simultaneous sense of neediness and entitlement these vine tendrils give off as they grip the stems of plants around them. like a child on your hip, holding on tight, secure in the knowledge that she deserves all of your comfort and attention.
grape vine with tendrils
one of the continuing delights of living in this strange corner of france is the prevalence of forgotten corners, and hedgerows, and abandoned gardens, where forgotten plants thrive that are either edible or uncommonly beautiful. this post-bloom iris was found behind a wooden plank against the stone wall of a neighbor’s house. it had hidden in the shadows for too long. i decided it deserved to celebrate its own beauty with an effervescent explosion of cherry red seeds. i hope you will give it a hand, well-earned, and long-deferred.
iris foetidissima (stinking iris fruits)
chateau pastre, autignac, france
i’ve been trying to figure out where still blog goes, when it’s time to change direction. at the end of this year, it will have been 5 years of still blog against at white background every day. that is a kind of tradition, but also a kind of stagnation if it remains the same indefinitely. i am putting the pieces together slowly. i don’t have the puzzle completed. but there are fewer loose pieces than there were six months ago. stay tuned.
white poplar leaves (populus alba)