Photography Thinks
My cousin Liz just moved to an assisted living facility near us. We visited today, exchanged some health information and conversated. We were happy when we left, because we knew she was safer than when she lived by herself.
Just cannot do anything except be there, give her a little love and attention.
Della the cat, seen here getting ready to paw a shoe, keeps her company.
Lost a favored plant yesterday, a Bromeliad Imperialis. Very sad. It graced our simple, humble garden, providing class and style. No post mortem, yet, could have been water or insects. Doesn’t matter why; just too bad we lost it.
So, these bromeliads just sit where we place them. They are from the air plant family, too big for household entertainment. Some of their beauty lies hidden within, protected by layers of leaves. The flower once. In the end, bromeliads sometimes kill themselves trying to multiply, leaving a legacy, but no history. They are indigenous to Florida, withstanding the changes in weather and temperature, while lending exotic flavors to outdoor spaces.
Our gardner, Richard King who designed our simple plot with Sharon, lost one too, recently. We both will be finding replacements.
So, last night Argus visited me during sleep. He never closes his eyes, looking into the future and remembering the past. Both for me seem pretty scary.
I have never gained control over the remnants of my past trauma or regained any sense I had control over the smashup that stole my career and adulthood. Even my understanding wife has had a tough time living with it. So it goes.
The future remains dim, too, now that I face a multitude of physical problems: blood, skin and spine being the most pressing. But I forage on, trying as I might try to live in the present, always valueing what I have, rather than what I lost which will never again be within my reach. No more dreams or long range plans.
Florida is the kind of place where many leave behind their real lives.
Keep Your Distance
I see many people walking past my house in Valencia Reserve whom I don’t know. The other night, as I looked at a full moon shining through the trees, a man walked by. Compositionally, he made the frame. Three shots. Moon moved. He moved. I needed to adjust the exposure. I got it.
What’s your name, I asked. Ronnie, I live at 9163, around the corner. Printed the image. Put in his mailbox after wiping it down with my card. He called to thank me. I don’t remember ever seeing him, other than as he drove by and he lives 4 houses away.
There may not be many positive things to say about living in lockdown.
Republican Rick Scott is running for the Senate in Florida with Trump’s support against Democrat incumbent Bill Nelson. After the third mass shooting in Florida, he called for prayer as a means to end gun violence. Happily, after Parkland, we now have a three day waiting period and a background check. That’s a start, but how he thinks prayer is going to stop gun deaths escapes me. He had the same advice for stopping red and green algae from gumming up our shores: pray.
Julio manages the fish department at “The Boys.” Order dinner. No muss or fuss. He cooks the the lobsters and cracks them. We eat them. Eat in. Not cheap, but not outrageously expensive. No drinking and driving. Always a smile and always reliable. Still, you have to deal with the rabble at “The Boys.” Ouch.
Argue ties to the community to avoid the sharks in the bail bond business.
Gene Joyner build a rain forest in West Palm Beach that few have visited. Called Unbelievable Acres Botanic Gardens, it is open to the public by appointment or on select tour dates. Featuring rare tropical fruits, foliage plants, flowers, trees and a host of other botanical creatures, many of which you have not seen. Running around are a host of reptiles that love the heat and humidity, in addition to a bountiful supply of bugs. Its a treasure.
This leaf has a name. I cannot remember all Gene taught me. Years ago, he was the botanist for the State of Florida. This garden/rain forest was built from scratch, by him. You have never seen anything like it.
So I walk around with a camera, using it to document the race, humans etc. It may not make me smarter or stronger, but I feel better about life. Meeting and talking with others makes me less stupid and more aware how we are all different. I don’t ask for stories. I ask if I can help. Felix didn’t want help. He said he was ready to die. No one knows for sure, if he went. I learned when I went to the food pantry and my images of him were on the door. Last people heard, he had been taken to a hospice.
Felix lived here, right off the highway. He lived in the woods. He could have had a place if he wanted one.
His front yard.
Garage and reading room.