This week’s photo challenge asks us to capture an image that shows something that hijacks your attention like an object that drives a child to proclaim, “Ooh, Shiny!”
I have a few things that distract me in a delightful way. Spotting someone who has retained a hairstyle from a bygone era is one of those things. I’m not talking about an intentional retro makeover here. I mean someone who is old enough to have sported that hair style when it was current. I’ve seen a woman about town who has a perfectly permed and feathered mullet from 1984. How did she find a stylist who will keep up such an outdated style? What spectacular thing happened 33 years ago that she has made her hair a shrine to it? By the way, only her hair is stuck in the past. Her clothing and accessories definitely belong to the current era.
While I find time travel hairdos fascinating, I have not had the opportunity this week to take such a picture. I also feel uncomfortable with street photography that makes fun of the folks portrayed. It would a tough task indeed for me to photograph Mrs. 1984 Mullet in a way that doesn’t insist, “Look at this ridiculous hairdo.”
Because of this concern about exploitation, I offer another sort of scene that rivets my attention. I love seeing morning light through flowers, trees, and many other sorts of flora. Every time I drive to work and see sun beams filtering through gardens, I wish I could stop and take a few pictures.
This morning I took a picture of the morning sun illuminating one of my sunflower plants. I stopped everything that I was doing, grabbed my camera, and headed toward the garden when I spotted the sunflowers through my kitchen window this morning. Full sunshine has been elusive this week. We are stuck in a pattern of cloudy, hot days. I hope it rains today and that these showers steer us toward clearer skies.
Every year I take a small back-to-school vacation to help my daughter prepare for her next school year. We hope to get every last thing she needs for school, but we usually accomplish the most essential thing, resting up for a busy year.
The sunflowers are usually in bloom at this time, and this year is no exception. Our garden is past its peak. Despite the hot, dry days of this time, the nights will soon get too cold for some of our flowers to thrive for much longer.
So much will change in the next month, as it does every year at this time.
My rose mallow hibiscus bush is booming. This is the first time I’ve seen five blooms packed so tightly together.
We are recovering from a blustery day that lost its way back in October and found home yesterday. When I returned from work, I found that my flower pot that sits on a pedestal in the yard had fallen upside down into the grass. I placed in the main flower bed for its convalescence:
My hibiscus continues its heavy blooming, and the sunflowers have buds.
My two petunia baskets suffered the fate of so many hanging baskets purchased in spring: they perished due to irregular watering. With all the time I’ve spent in the garden this year, I should have attended to this task more. Instead, they wilted one too many times in the heat and did not rebound.
I found a couple gorgeous calibrachoa baskets last weekend. My red calibrachoa basket hasn’t needed as much attention as the petunia baskets did. I feel hopeful that these two additions will thrive in the garden.
There’s something about the first mum I see at summer’s end that compels me to touch it. They remind of the kid who was last to bring a jacket to school as fall stretched onward. It’d be 48 degrees and breezy outside, and I wouldn’t see a single goosebump on his arms. I’d wonder if his arms felt warm to the touch.
This weekend I spotted mums at a local garden center. I touched a pair of them, wondering how they brave the cold the longest of any garden plant that thrives in this area. They were just 1.99 a plant, and now they are part of my garden. I wonder how they’ll fare in the still-hot afternoons of late summer.