Posts Tagged ‘nature

02
Nov
12

a week of one day’s sunset — day 5

and this concludes our week of sunsets (and moonrises–i am incapable of leaving well enough alone.)

this was an evening of no ugliness.

no matter how hard you tried to find a flaw in what you were viewing (i wasn’t btw), there were none to be found. all points of the compass gave and gave you nothing but beauty.

a panorama even produced a delicate line of beauty (with a nod to hogarth.)

after the sun set and as i was walking back home, a patch of gaillardia (aka “blanket flower”, from the family asteraceae – sunflowers) called out to me, “take our picture, too! we’re worthy and just as beautiful as the sunset.” as it turned out, they were right.

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31
Aug
12

palms (i didn’t mean to forget you)

the great thing about nature: it doesn’t care about time.

these palms had slipped past me this week and had patiently waited (they said, one can never be too sure what with the language difference) for their opportunity to be posted here on robert patrick.

26
Aug
12

chaos beauty (random acts)

you just never know where you’re going to find it.

but be there for it and it will come to you.  (leaves and flower stamens on the sidewalk courtesy the bees swarming a california pepper tree up the street from my house.)

18
Aug
12

plumeria (and weather patterns)

it’s the end of the second week of extreme heat.

all of the plants are putting on a good face in spite of their wilting spirits.

me too.

15
May
12

the chaos of beauty (random shadows)


i was struck by the beauty of the shadows that fell across my path a few days ago.

19
Mar
12

toy soldiers*

my fantasies as a child were no different than yours. perhaps you were jealous of my solitude, but that did not matter to me. i did not have to share my toys, my books, my bedroom, my mother with anyone and although you might imagine that would make me a selfish person, it has not.

it is possible that i am better equipped to be alone, that my ability to manage on my own far exceeds that of someone with brothers, sisters, a father, and a mother. it is also possible that i am at turns gregarious, charming, shy, aloof (not necessarily as opposite as one might think, although a coolness does run through those social skills.)

these perfume bottles were my toy soldiers. i never thought how unusual it might have been that my mother had collected these bottles in the 30s and 40s and then carted them around in an old red velvet-lined silverware box. (what happened to the silver was never a topic of conversation.) i would line them up on the linoleum in the kitchen or in my bedroom; the short squat ones with the black lids the front line of defence, the thinner and taller ones making the important decisions, guarding the flanks.

the battle would stop when a bottle fell over, a quiet ceremony of picking it up, unscrewing, uncorking its cap, the left-over scent of a long-ago perfume imagined (or was it real? maybe a bit of both.) as i grew older i would try to discern the words on the labels, “mr. poulter of new york”, “divine”, “honeysuckle”, paris, london, rome, avon. each a symbol of something grander, of something more mysterious (my mother; they are mysteries to their young boys, these mothers who control your life. you know they are different, but you are unsure of what that difference is. you throw yourself into their arms in fear, in love, in fun and bury your head in their lap, their breast. your thin arms stretched around their hips, their waist for protection and reassurance.)

i’ve never thought of photographing them before today. and now that i have i think i can let them go; each wrapped in toilet paper and laid into the red velvet-lined silverware box with its faux leather exterior (a warm camel color) and bakelite black handle; soldiers buried, wars won, medals pinned to chests, conquests of foreign lands (the chenille rug, the hassock, the child’s rocking chair) remembered.

*i never had real toy soldiers; i used what was available to play my boy games. nurture or nature or fate? (all of them.)

30
Dec
11

clouds over the ocean (a challenge)

 

how often can you write about the clouds, the sunrise, the canyon, the bluffs, the palms, the pacific ocean?  when do you think  you’ve said, you’ve written, you’ve photographed these same things enough?

you’re not expecting me to answer those questions, are you?

aren’t these photographs enough proof for you that there is no limit to the variations, the subtleties, the grand gestures nature provides us each and every day?  do you not see beauty everyday?

i challenge you to prove me wrong.  tell me of the day you did not encounter one beautiful thing, moment, animal, word, thought, deed, action, heartbeat, kiss, look.




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© Robert Patrick, and Cultivar, 2008-2013. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts, photographs and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Robert Patrick and Cultivar with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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