This is another in the series of still lives I’ve begun taking of Maria at a different kind of work than we usually see, but one central to her work. Her concentration is impressive, and the scene does evoke the old portrait painters. I like that effect. I will try for more of these stilllifes; they say a lot.
I can’t tell you how great it is to be doing my flower art photos again with a Macro Lens from Sigma and a used macro from Leica. Maria bought these baby Iris flowers for me this morning on the way back from my surgery, and I’ve been drooling over them and feasting over them all day. These photos were all taken with a Sigma 105 mm and a Leica SLR Mirrorless Camera.
Several people have mentioned seeing renewed energy and optimism in my blog and clarity in my writing. They are asking me what’s changed. One thing is that I recovered from my severe brain bleed and concussion that ended with my being in the hospital. That took a long time to get over.
I am grateful for my new foot brace. I was in pain and discomfort all the time.
I am in pain still some of the time, but radically less, and not enough to stop me from walking again.
Beyond that, my therapeutic meditation and spiritual work have been intense and very beneficial. I stopped arguing with sociopaths online and learned of the power of the delete button; too little used, I fear. I no longer allow creeps and assholes to enter my space and let them anger or hurt me.
I work to be a better human every day and for as long as possible. I do some good every day, keeping me grounded and even. The real me is slowly and painfully emerging. My photography has been a transformative experience, releasing something long buried inside me. It has helped me to see the world in a new and different way. Pictures don’t lie, even in the age of AI.
I am as open and honest as I can remember being. I just wanted to let you know that there is more to come. The Mansion work is a gift and continues, and so are Sue Silverstein and her refugee students. The Army Of Good is one of the great blessings of my life.
Curbing my online hostility has also made a big difference in getting the anger and hurt out of my life. I’ll continue to hold back when it’s appropriate and necessary. These people need to be challenged if the internet will ever meet its potential.
I decided to turn those messages into good, no matter what was intended. Of all these, my spiritual work, alone and with Maria, has taken me farther than anything. So has my therapy work. I can only say I’m still working on it and won’t give up until I drop. Like anything worth doing, it takes hard and continuous work. That’s the best I can do. (Above, flower art one.)
Flower art two.
Flower art three.
Flower art four.
Flower art five.
Bud is everywhere around the farm, so it’s only suitable for him to be in most pictures.
Today ran the gamut of extremes. It began with surgery on my foot; it ended with temperatures up in the 50s; Maria and I sat by the pasture soaking up the sun; Zip was in my lap, and she moved over to talk to her donkeys and Asher, the sheep.
The day turned beautiful as the sun came up and melted the remaining snow; the wood stoves were off, the wind quieted, the air was warm, and sitting outside for a long time with Zip on my shoulder was sweet. I felt like a ship captain with a first mate. We studied the horizon for a long time, and neither moved. I did keep stroking and scratching from time to time.
The donkeys and sheep launched lazily in the pasture, soaking up the warmth.
I’ll just put the photos up. I also took some flower art photos with my new Iris flowers. I can’t think of a more exciting or sweeter day. It was strange for February, even alarming. But it was also beautiful and comfortable, and we loved sitting out in it and walking around the farm—an excellent way to rest after surgery.
My foot is not hurting much, but I can’t walk far in my surgical boot. I didn’t miss it; I had to wear one for over two years. We must keep the stitches from infection. I love the winter, but nothing compares to Spring.
Here are the photos; I loved taking them and hope you enjoy them. It was great to be warm and do some flower art; I’ll put that up shortly. I’m excited about it. (Zip and me photos by Maria Wulf)
Zip was very happy to hang out with us this afternoon; he got all the attention he might have wanted.
The weather sparked a love-a-thon. Maria sat with me and then went to see the donkeys; they went to see the sheep, Asher first. It’s impressive to see a sheep lying still like that while a person comes to scratch his nose. He’s a gentle giant. We have been lucky with our wethers; they are all kind and gentle.
When the donkeys want attention, they bump into us, get close, and wait for us to rub, brush, and scratch them. We are suckers for that. Our farrier says we have the nicest donkeys he has ever worked with.
The blue sky was waiting for me this morning. I was happy to see it and the three clouds that hovered majestically about the Green Mountains of Vermont.
Our warmth time began with my sitting with Zip and ended that way. He would jump off occasionally to investigate some invisible movement and then return. His company on one side and Maria’s on the other was excellent. It was a kind of family.
I can retake some living and archived photos from the summer thanks to Sue Lamberti and her newly re-opened flower shop. On the way home from surgery this morning, I stopped at the Cambridge Flower Shop to pick up another batch of Irises I’ve been delivering to friends all weekend.
I’ve cleaned Sue out of Irises; Maria bought me the last batch this morning.
I stood the flowers on my raised garden bed and got out the Leica and my Iphone. Gosh, it was great to be back in business again. I have many archived photos to share, but nothing sweeter than looking to see where the sun is and clicking away, twisting, bowing, and looking for the right sweet spot.
This is me, this is us.
The Irises are beautiful photos to photograph. The sunlight brings out their purple beauty. Welcome to my new season; I’m loose and free with the Cambridge Flower shop open.
I’ve been talking for days about bringing some Iris home during our warm spell so I can go out and use the sunlight to take my photographs. On the way home from my surgery, she pulled over at the Cambridge Flower Shop and insisted on buying me the last five. She suggested I lie down for a while, and I did, and then we both went to work, as it should be. She is selling her meditation trees and most of her new potholders. It’s lovely to see how happy, busy, and successful.
I know she won’t rest, but I need to this afternoon.
I put them in the garden bed and waited for the sun to come up to the level I wanted. It was great to see the light hit the flowers.
This afternoon, I’ll go out with a different lens; we’ll see what happens. I’m going to milk these flowers while they are here.
Shades of blue.
When I was young, I didn’t give a thought to being old or dying.
Now that I’m getting old, I can’t entirely escape the experience of getting older and thinking about it.
There are things I can’t control – our bodies, death, declining energy (I could not for a second be President Of The United States), and things I can control.
One of them is how I see myself and feel about aging gracefully. I am what I am, as Popeye often said, and I accept who I am and what I look like. I know I’m going to die one day, sooner rather than later, and I’m okay with it; sad sometimes but respectful of life.
That means accepting all that life brings me, the good and the bad. I thought that one of my toes was getting chopped up this morning.
My flowers have changed my perspective along with age and meditation.
I see that the seeds of negativity are always there in me, in the news, online, with my friends, and everywhere I go. But there is something big that I do control: the positive seeds, the seeds of compassion, tolerance, acceptance, creativity, and love.
Those seeds all live and grow in my soil and soul, but without some rain and fertilizer, they can’t grow. They need my love and attendance, as any seed or flower does.
Part of my practice now is to recognize the positive thoughts in me and give them color, light, and sustenance.
I can’t control what happens to me, but how I feel about it is up to me.
(Two wonderful and caring nurses took good care of me this morning. They make such a difference.)
Another day, another surgery, another opportunity to get better, feel good, and live longer and healthier. As the work on my foot continues – we’ll know in a week if the operation was successful when Dr. Daly unwraps the bandages.
I refuse to whine, complain, or engage in old talk; I will not speak poorly of my life; I know now that it is listening.
I’ve liked the seed analogy lately. If I recognize the good things inside of me – love, creativity, and compassion – then the work I need to do is to nourish and acknowledge those things every day. And do the good I can for as long as I can.
My foot has been an epic challenge as I grow up and age. I’m very grateful to be walking around again (not this week, I’m afraid. The surgical boot is back on. But nobody has bothered with my writing hands. Maria loves me anyway.)
Here’s my seed of the day. My life is not ending in the most important ways; it’s just getting started.
I’m home, at peace, feeling strong and eager for the rest of today and tomorrow. My seeds are in my hands, nobody else’s, and I agree with Grandma Moses: my life is what I make of it.
I have no one to blame but me.
