Cool mornings and shorter evenings have a way of catching me off guard in the bustle of breaking in a new school year's momentum. Before pumpkins are fully ready to catch my attention, I have a quiet tradition of carefully selecting a few bundles of mums for my little porch. Each year I anticipate the moment I will dress up my shopping cart with their color, because they make that routine grocery trip a fancy little occasion for me.
Soon after I put them on my front step, I noticed one mum bush was leaning. On closer inspection I realized that a large chunk of the plant had been knocked over, presumably by a familiar soccer ball. It was suspiciously re-planted, as only as 8 year old can attempt to cover an accident. I discarded the broken stems and turned the plant so that the living petals faced toward the sun.
Over the course of a few days, the brave remaining buds delicately opened without any sign of regret for the pieces that died. They did not dull their colour as a curtesy for the clusters that would not have the chance to bloom. They did not seem to mind the void so clearly obvious in their misshapen remnants. They absorbed light & transformed into their potential.
This morning I continued the quarrel in my thoughts about the way I share bits of my life. How can I possibly focus on what is beautiful when destruction exists next to every curated photograph? It is a topic I have discussed often, (ask my friends), and one that will likely always persist in order for me to pursue balance. This morning I inched closer to clarity on this subject while I admired these berry hues.
These mums gave me more than I paid for them. They illustrated the attitude I need to embrace.
I could spend my time mourning what is broken and my energy consumed by events I can not change.
Or I can celebrate what courageously still blooms & revel in the beauty of the season I live in.
It seems to be the only logic that could possibly spare me from fits of madness.
Thank you for joining me here. I am a wedding & commercial photographer, writer, and mama. All content & photographs are my own. To read more about the concept of 'Tether & Fly,' please view the Origin page. The image from this post taken with my Nikon D800 and edited with Lightroom. © Andrea Bell of Tether & Fly.