I began gardening as a way to create a pleasant spot in the empty space in our back yard. When the plants grew, I noticed details–how the grapevine actually “climbs” and attaches itself to a support to achieve its height; how birds, butterflies and insects I’d never encountered before began arriving.
The grapevine circled around the legs of my son’s old jungle gym and memories of the days he’d spent there were reignited. I planted a trumpet vine to commemorate the passing of our beloved border collie. The day the red flutes burst into bloom, I felt our old pup’s spirit nearby.
Just as our bones hold sense memory, I believe the earth retains the memory of all that has gone on before in its history. I created this portfolio as a visual diary of all the memories seeded in this garden.
In the late afternoon, shadows appear on our living room wall, reflections of the stained glass from our bungalow’s front windows. At dusk, the light enters the room and turns the wall into one of dancing, dramatic images. The shadows appear for a moment and then quickly fade as twilight deepens. Time plays out and memory is the only recall.
I started a year-long photo-a-day project several years ago. I wanted to make sure I used my camera every day and committing to a photo-a-day seemed a good way to insure that. The year taught me that some of the best images come from serendipity. If I hadn’t had my camera with me, I would have missed out on photographs that intrigued me and some that I never would have imagined making without the deadline I created. Herein is a sampling of some of my daily photos.