The margin separating spectator from participant is narrow. My teeth rattle to the rhythm of hooves striking the hard ground. Fine particles of dust settle on my damp skin. The tang of sweated horse flesh burns in my nostrils, tastes salty on my tongue. Thundering concussions ring in my ears and bold colors flash before my eyes like a lightning storm.
I don’t particularly like Hostas. They just scream ordinariness. Their leaves, arguably their main feature, display a profusion of ordinarily-shaped leaves in a spectrum of ordinary leaf colors. I’m sure there are interesting and unique varieties out there, as there are with other popular plants, but I simply don’t get their appeal. When they do flower, the flowers are tiny, pale things whose delicate proportions are dwarfed by the plant’s bulky foliage. That is, until you see them without the other 90% of the plant.
I’ve never been so enamored of a daily sight as I was of this one. During the quarter that I spend studying abroad, I regularly watched fleeting, equatorial sunsets from the lawn of the Universidad Nacional de Guinea Ecuatorial. My classmates and I had a daily break from late afternoon to early evening. In those hours, the sun and the heat retreated just enough to make the stifling, soupy air feel fresh again. It was the perfect time to sprawl on the grass and take in the play of burning light on the fluffy, dense clouds that perpetually threatened rain.
This week’s WordPress Photo Challenge asked bloggers to explore opposing elements in their photography. I’m not always aware of opposites when I’m taking my photographs, but when I’m browsing through them, I find that I’m strongly attracted to the ones that feature opposing textures and colors. They add interest and complexity. Read more
I am not a summer kind of person. I prefer the transitional seasons: the subtle liveliness that creeps into spring, or autumn’s graceful slip toward stark, cold darkness. That being said, I appreciate the simple purity that inhabits summer alone. At the height of the season—when the days are long, the sunshine is constant, and the air is always warm—time seems to stand still. This lends a particularly uncomplicated feel to the simple pleasures that filled my childhood summers. Read more
Where I Ought To Be 