My dear husband, who is the world’s worst about remembering things like birthdays and anniversaries, actually sent me a bouquet of mixed flowers for Valentine’s Day this year. They wilted almost immediately, which he said ruefully was just par for the course. The one time he remembers, and they die on him.
I think that the arrangement had probably been made several days in advance because of the crush of business on Valentine’s, and some of the stems just didn’t last very long.
So late last week I bought two dozen roses and made my own arrangement. I noticed the texture of the rose petals in the morning light yesterday and decided to try photographing them before they, too, go the way of all flowers.
The “beauty shot.” This is the equivalent of the Olan Mills portrait of the little girl leaning her chin on her hand and smiling at the camera. Not very exciting.
Better.
And despite the somewhat distracting background, I like this one the best. The light brings out the pale blush color of the petals as well as the soft texture.
In other news, the bronchitis is back and I haven’t felt like doing much work. I did clean the studio last week (stirring up the dust may have something to do with the lung problems, you think?), so I hope to be back in the saddle again soon.
