Dying Tulips

There’s beauty even in the face of death.

Beautiful Dying

There is beauty even in death.

I asked my wife yesterday not to throw away these dying lilies until I could photograph them. I love their poignant beauty. They remind me that even death can be tinged with loveliness.

Cherry Blossom Morning

These scenes are achingly beautiful and SO very short.

Spring

Rain, rain and more rain soaks us, yet the colors of spring turn the gloom into glory.

“Harshness vanished. A sudden softness
has replaced the meadows’ wintry grey.
Little rivulets of water changed
their singing accents. Tendernesses,

hesitantly, reach toward the earth
from space, and country lanes are showing
these unexpected subtle risings
that find expression in the empty trees”….Rilke



Low Fire


I find there’s something enormously powerful about flowers if one takes time to look at them closely.

“Tulips shyly smiling, greet the spring
Tightly closed when at 
First we meet
Tulips slowly opening, begin to sing
Gaining volume 
Ever sweet 

No longer shy, as days grow longer, 
Raising their heads 
They begin to flirt
Tulips dressed in many a color
Breezes swirling 
Each floral skirt

Tulips, brazen painted hussies, 
Part their bright lips trying to seduce
The busy buzzing bees
Far too bold for dainty tussies
Vibrant Tulip flowers produce
Visions certain to please “
Mary Havran

A New Beginning

This photograph of my wife’s favorite flowers, tulips, marks the beginning  of what I hope will be a new direction for me. Until now I have concentrated mainly on street photography. Going forward I plan to concentrate on images with a significant “beauty component” because I don’t want to get stuck in only one form of photography. 

We’ll see how this project evolves but I’m exited to try it.

“The Two Are One”

I died for beauty but was scarce
Adjusted in the tomb,
When one who died for truth was lain
In an adjoining room.

He questioned softly why I failed?
‘For beauty,’ I replied.
‘And I for truth, — the two are one;
We brethren are,’ he said.

And so, as kinsmen met a night,
We talked between the rooms,
Until the moss had reached our lips,
And covered up our names…..Emily Dickinson

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