Blossom/flourish, wither/perish

I can’t name the precise date when plants and their flowers past their prime began to fascinate me, but sometime in the last couple of years my camera with me behind it began to gravitate toward “spent” flowers. 

I’m a gullible customer of Trader Joe’s cut flowers. I bring them home, vase them, and display them— way past their time of conventional beauty. I know they are getting photographically ripe when C’s (usually gentle) inquiries are something like, “How much longer do you plan to keep these, Sharon?” Or, “Are these flowers ready to be thrown away?” His comments related to the wilting flowers as well as my inner stirrings are always soft and quiet. He gives my creativity the space it needs, even when I respond, “Oh, no. Not yet!” to his suggestions of tossing them in the nearest trash can.

Once the flowers reach the right level of “sag,” I begin to photograph rather than ditch.

When I ponder the matter, I think it, in addition to my own quirkiness, has something to do with my curiosity about the character, vulnerability, authenticity, fragility, and even elegance embedded in all things aging. There is beauty in diminishment.

Singing was an important part of my church youth group experience. On Sunday evenings we would belt out the oldies but goodies, one of them having this verse:

To all life Thou givest, to both great and small;
In all life Thou livest, the true life of all;
We blossom and flourish as leaves on the tree,
And wither and perish but naught changeth Thee.
(Immortal, Invisible, God Only Wise) UMH, 103)

We do blossom, flourish, wither, and perish…while nothing separates us from the nurturing, transforming presence of love. I’ve come to see this wisdom revealed in flowers— and people— past their prime. Or could it be that the end of the life cycle is prime time?

(The images posted in this blog depict some of the aging flowers I have encountered through my camera lens. They are included in a forming body of work.)