a new take on a familiar subject

As I have mentioned before, July is not my favorite month. But Queen Anne’s lace makes all the hot stickiness somehow worth it. I will never tire of capturing its extraordinary delicacy. The Queen.

Queen Anne’s Lace (Daucus carota)

Standing together

Yesterday was Pub Day for Steve’s book. Yes, after years (2 years in my case, and 8 years in his case) our two Pub Days fell only two months apart. At first we thought this was perhaps not ideal, but it is turning out there is lot of opportunity and interest in our doing joints events.  Last night was Steve’s Launch Party. Tonight we will be talking together to a sold-out crowd at the Twin Cities’ biggest indie bookseller. All of this hoopla is fun and exciting. And exhausting. I feel like these Queen Anne’s lace–standing together tall and erect, turning towards the sun and blooming. It looks impressive, but it was been very windy here (all those storm fronts moving through) and with each front, these delicate beauties get whipped around like weather-cocks. For right now, Steve and I are holding up, and making the most of all the opportunities being offered. But…I can feel my energies being depleted. Soon, I will need rest.

If you have not heard about Steve’s book, it’s called A Season for That: Lost and Found in the Other Southern France. I recommend you go over to Amazon and check i out. It’s magnificent.

Queen Anne’s lace (Daucus carota)

we see what we choose to see

Robert Mapplethorpe is a well know photographer of the 1980s. Most of us probably know him as the best friend and photographer of Patti Smith. Almost all of the iconic images of Patti Smith were shot by Robert. You may not know him as a photographer of flower still lifes however. A quick google search revealed at least four books of just his flower photos. I own one of them. I like his flower photos…but they do not wow me. They seem to me photos anyone could make if they were tasked with “making the flowers look as sexual as possible.” In my opinion, he had a dominant filter through which he saw the world. That filter happened to be sex. And sex never goes out of style. This daylily, with swollen ovaries is my homage to Robert Mapplethrope.

daylily with swelling ovaries

Tropical Twin Cities

We continue with our daily showers. They come down so quickly and so heavy now, that it feels downright tropical here in the north.  When we were in our 20s, Steve and I spent 3 months backpacking around the archipelagos of French Polynesia.  It was monsoon season, and every afternoon, for 40 minutes, the rains would come. It was the wettest rain I have ever experienced–huge droplets falling all at once. No winds, no thunder, no lightening–just big fat rain drops pouring out of the sky all at once. And as soon as it was over, the sun came right back out and started the process of evaporation all over again. This is the kind of summer we are having up here in Minnesota. It’s unusual for us. Everything is moist and drippy. Including me. At least the lichens are loving it.

lichens on an oak branch

shades of July

These four branchlets of sumac leaves came from the same colony of sumac. Half of the colony was almost entirely in shade, the other in mostly sun.  The gradient of colors caught me eye. My friend Kristin was over today, and asked me what I had been noticing and photographing lately. I answered  “Oh, it’s July. It’s just a wall of green out there, with a sprinkling of summer flowers like confetti.” “July is not my favorite.” I added.  I think the heat and humidity affects my mood, which in turn affects my ability to be present and notice. Because I am so uncomfortable being sticky and sweaty, it has been hard for me to get out of my body and in order to be present in my environment. I’m managing to find subjects, but all I really want to do is sit on the sleeping porch and read. How about you? DWhat’s your relationship with July?

straghorn sumac leaves*

p.s. when I typed in the subject name above, I inadvertently typed in “sumac feathers” instead of “sumac leaves“. LOL. But truly, don’t they look like feathers?