Plants, and other living things

[pecunium]

The light is blue today. That shallow light, coming from the south, which has that crystalline quality to it. It picks up the green of the winter plants, and the yellow of the schoolyard on the other side of the fence.

Where it hits the wall, it is white. One has to squint to see through that white to the pink of the mouse house.

I love this light. This angle of light is the 1/3rd of the year I like best for photography. Even at noon it has modelling, and Oliver's coat glistens as he runs beneath the rosemary and the cactus.

We have a window full of plants (above the snakes and the books, which live cheek by jowl). Maia likes orchids, but refused to let me buy her any until she had her own kitchen to put them in. Last Christmas she said one looked pretty, which was nothing new, and that we ought to get it, which was. Now we have a veritable jungle of them.

Phaleopsis, Cymbidium, and a Dendrobium. Green and yellow and purple, chocolate red and mottled pinks. The flowers which never seem to fade, and then, whoof they shrivel and fall.

Those plants people say are finicky. That moving them, or repotting, or looking at them cross-eyed will stop them from blooming; for years. We have three (including that first one) which are sending up racemes. They've made two major moves, been sunbjected to three different climates and light levels lacking in steadiness. But they bloom.

Gotta love it. Gives ya' hope.

Comments

[betnoir.livejournal.com]

Is is presumptive of me to assume that Maia has both read The Orchid Thief and seen the brilliant Charlie Kaufmann movie Adaptation which deals with that book?

[pecunium.livejournal.com]

Yes.

I have read the book, and so imposed on her to watch the film. It is a strange film, and I'm not sure one gets any idea of what's going on in the book from the film.

The book being so fantastic, the additions in the film move to the surreal.

But I liked it.

TK

[fidelioscabinet.livejournal.com]

A lot of orchids are tougher than people realize. I can't always get my to re-bloom (I suspect light issues), but they can handle a lot more ups and downs than you'd expect. Maybe they're like people that way--we often turn out able to handle more challenges than we believe we can.

[pygmymetal.livejournal.com]

Can I say I am glad you posted today about the light? Just this very morning on the way into work, the sun was turning the clouds this cool gold color, and against the blues and greys of the raincloud, it was a truly breathless sight. I kept sneaking peeks at it as I came down the hill in the traffic. I wondered if anyone ever looked at the sunrises like I do, as different works of art, changing in front of us daily, seasonally, each unique. It sort of depressed me because I thought no one else noticed these things. Then I read this. :)

Thanks.

[pecunium.livejournal.com]

As a photographer, light matters. I've always paid attention to it, as far back as I can remember.

The translucence of light beneath the snow, the bluish overtones above 8,000 ft., the hard edges of reflected light (from snow or water) the grey overtones of deep clouds and the bruised looming of tornado weather.

The cosiness of candle, and firelight, and the emptiness of it in the desert. There was the morning in Kuwait which felt like Mars, and the sheer ovewhelming dimness of sandstorms I hope to never see again.

Light, I look at paintings and am flabbergasted to see how painters could capture it so, the deep clarity of murky sea-water (or the Great Lakes, on which I spent my distant days in short pants), the blues, the golds, the saturation of it.

Which is why I like slide film.

TK

[pygmymetal.livejournal.com]

YES! I remember getting up early to study for finals and going to the department building, to study upstairs in this wee room in a building that used to be the library. Seeing the vivid purples of the sunrise. *smiles*

I have tears from reading this. I hope you don't think this strange but that post spoke to my spirit and made me feel more at peace. Thank you.

[cluefairy-j.livejournal.com]

My favorite plant is a picture of one on my wall. Doesn't matter which plant, as long as it's not living. I kill them. I've killed cactus.

[honormac.livejournal.com]

Light and Orchids... After a knock-down, drag-out like last night? People will think you've gone soft. *wink*

While I've always loved plants, I'm fairly sure it's been living the the Phoenix desert for over a decade that has sharpened that adoration to such a very keen level. Every time I travel somewhere really lush - England, Napa, Oregon, parts of Montana - I think my traveling companions fear they'll have to drug me to get me back into the car, boat, or plane.

Sadly, plants held en domocile seem to hate me... Whether out of a resentment of their captivity, or some plant sense that shows them the frailties in my character.

And, of course, I've always had a particular fondness for orchids... Especially the ones that look so much like... urm... really pretty flowers.

Then there's light... While a different view might be a different dish, I think variations in the finer qualities of light are to our sense of vision as variations in flavors are to our sense of taste. There are so many different ways an apple can present itself to you... So, too, are there such a wide variety of ways a certain vista can paint itself for you.

I'm not trying to preach to the choir, of course... Just basking in these nice, warm thoughts you've put into my head. Thank you.

[pecunium.livejournal.com]

Nah, they already know I'm soft.

Maybe I'll be nice and send you a print of some orchid macros, because they look like, flowers.

When Maia was in England for a term, she was going ape for brown. All was green, and she (unlike me) grew up her entire life in Los Angeles.

I spent a summer in Phoenix (and a few at Ft. Huachuca) as well as one in the Mojave. I love the desert, the delicate shades of color, and the sheer determination of life. But it's a winter place. If you want to come out, we do a camp-out/retreat (Orange Grove Meeting of Friends) every year over Martin Luther King. You're more than welcome.

TK

[honormac.livejournal.com]

MLK is... Right around the middle of January, most places, right? And you're roughly where in the world?

[pecunium.livejournal.com]

Yes, the middle of January.

I am in San Luis Obispo, more or less, in the Central Coast of Calif. But this would be in Joshua Tree, more near Palm Springs.

TK

[trinker.livejournal.com]

Ah, I remember being in the PNWet and getting more and more distressed by all the green. It felt oppressive to me. (I'm like Maia, I'm L.A. native, and even long sojourns in NorCal and other climes hasn't cured me.)

[pecunium.livejournal.com]

I get anxious for all sorts of color. One of the things I like in Calif. is that, absent a white Christmas; and despite what gets said, we have a cycle of seasons.

The timing isn't what most people think. I knew it had rained while I was in Texas, becuase it was a rising yellow green in the hills as I flew over them.

The lincolns and kellys of the midwest are rare, down here, but that's about it.

And I like the Puget Sound region, but I'm just flexible that way. Wet and dry are both wonderful.

TK

[trinker.livejournal.com]

Oh, I love the subtle roll of the seasons in Southern California.

I was disturbed by the lack of "true green" in the palette of the PNW.

[jennae.livejournal.com]

Ah yes! All of your O'Keefe's in the Grab Bag are making sense now! :)

The orchid is my favorite flower. I generally have one in the house, and it's usually in a bathroom, as that seems to be the only place I can cultivate them....but then I live in the desert.