I could almost hear D.’s eyes rolling around in her head — enough with the rules! — but I liked identifying the boundaries, feeling my way around the edges of what I considered “nature.”
Another week, another Facebook challenge. Seven #photographsofnature in seven days. But what is “nature” — and what can you shoot in February, in a sorta (sub)urban neighborhood, in a week dominated by flat light and grey skies?
Nature, I decided, was going to be something I saw, firsthand, on the day in question, captured as best I could with the ol’ iPod camera.
Nature wouldn’t be man-made, but might be cultivated by human hands. Did birds on a wire count? Winter cabbage?
Nature could be animal, vegetable, mineral, within limits. Birds, bamboo and sand would do — but not human babies, navel oranges or stone steps.
I thought: we’re inclined to go big or go home, but nature appreciates its own intimacy. What can you find that you don’t expect to see?
I started out, as I so often do, by looking up. And then I looked down, way down. Way small. To the surprising bursts of vitality that might otherwise be invisible in February, in my sorta (sub)urban neighborhood, in a week dominated by flat light and grey skies.
To see a world in a grain of sand,
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
And eternity in an hour.