Several good people told me the flower below is called Nigella, or Love In The Mist.

I love the name; I love the quirky flower, an oddball if you can ever call a flower that.

it captures so much of what I want in my flower photography, but not all the time.

This is a time to go inward and strengthen what is inside; outside voices hold nothing for me. Anger bounces off of me.

I’m patiently waiting for someone I want to listen to and learn from. I don’t need to watch the same thing over and over again. I’m letting go.

 

Much of my life now centers around letting go, which is the path to peace of mind for me. Getting stuck on the past or failures and disappointments brought me a lot of unhappiness and anxiety. To me, it became the garbage dump of my consciousness. I needed to clean it out. I needed to let go. To do that, I had to figure out where this trouble and pain came from.

The more I did that, the easier it was—and is—to let go. Now I can just be me, take it or leave it. To me, good Jon Katz and wrong Jon Katz make life precious. I can bear almost anything but being a predictable bore.

I’m trying to make the Good Side bigger and bigger. It won’t be easy.

I’m not seeking sainthood or the approval of the billions of computer users on the Internet. I’m seeking my own approval. I’ve let go of many grievances, sorrows, and recriminations. I’m done with others telling me what to think. It’s true; I really don’t care what strangers who know nothing about me think about what I think.

I’m lighter. I know who my friends are and who they are not.

This is a sign-off tonight:  I’m done blogging for the day. I had fun with flowers today; come and see.

I’m bracing myself for heat all week. The vegetable garden is drying up. People everywhere have been going through this; we haven’t until now. We will one day need a new and deeper well.

Those maligned scientists have warned about this for years; now, there is no escaping the truth. I won’t think much about it today; there is too much beauty around me.

I’m not thinking of yesterday either; I get it. I know what happened. I don’t need to see it again 100 times. How can the brain survive without harm?

Nothing is new to say, and we are expected to hear nothing for days, months, and years. I won’t do that to my consciousness. I know they have a lot of time to fill it out and many ads to justify, but they won’t be filling it out with me.

 

 

New flowers I find and bring home.

Flowers in our gardens or the forest.

 

Sometimes, the most miniature flowers are the most beautiful. These flowers, similar to the head of a pin, are shy about being photographed.

 

 

I feel like a painter sometimes, mixing up colors. I love the look and feel of wildflowers mixed with cut and garden flowers.

 

Wildflowers, haunting.

The sun lights up my flowers.

Sunset, the other end of the day.