Photos | Telling the Truth

April 16, 2018

Longwood Gardens in April | Photos 1

Last Friday we joined at least 98% of the metro-Philadelphia area at Longwood Gardens. The big draw? Temperatures in the high 80s. The pathway from the parking lot to the Visitor’s Center was lined with small early bloomers. Those are Wild Oats above (lavender with yellow eye).

We walked to the café for lunch, followed by a long-anticipated walk in the Meadow. Here’s a quick look on the way to the newly renovated café, and then to the Meadow. In the first photo, the Conservatory is on the left; the café is behind the trees in the center.

Our walk was invigorating and a bit eery. First, Spring was barely beginning to peek out from the ground. Second, 26 percent of the meadow was burned off in mid-March as part of good meadow practices. Third, we saw only a handful of birds (swallows and an occasional predator), but no butterflies or bees at all. Still, it was worth every minute. Definitely not crowded, and a great workout after a winter of relentless snow, ice and wind.

Here are two views from the top of the meadow, looking back toward the flower walk, outdoor theater and café areas.

Things perked up a bit on the downhill walk toward the pond. Here’s a lovely bird chalet ready for occupancy (#31 in case the birds get lost), a reassuring message from Longwood saying this will indeed become grand beauty on an awesome platform, and a couple of murky cold pond creatures. The second was like a flash on top of the water! Out of there the minute we were spotted.

Happy Monday, everybody! I’m glad you stopped by. Next time: a selection of photos from the other side of our visit to Longwood.

©Elouise Renich Fraser, 16 April 2018
Photos taken by DAFraser, 27 April 2018, Longwood Gardens and Meadow Garden

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March 8, 2018

misaligned | Int’l Women’s Day

Claude Monet, Poppy Fields near Argenteuil

in the waiting room
perfectly aligned paintings
greet the misaligned

I’m back at the physical therapy center, sitting in the waiting room. Directly across from me, above a row of chairs, hang two huge paintings. Doubtless chosen for their ability to calm and reassure patients bearing all kinds of physical misalignments. Most are women.

The paintings are meticulously hung and feature lovely outdoor scenes. Expansive, bucolic and natural without being overly sentimental. Unobstrusive gentle colors and bright sunshiny days.

Nothing to rattle our nerves or make us wonder about untold stories or what might happen next. No storms brewing in the background. No signs of aging structures or broken-down bridges. All is serene.

The haiku, written several weeks ago, came to mind this morning as I scrolled through photos celebrating International Women’s Day. If even a few of these photos were hung on walls in our public spaces, what would happen? Here are three that caught my eye.

Bhubaneswar, India – Sand Sculpture by Manas Sahoo

Thane, India – Fashion Show by Acid Attack Survivors

Dhaka, Bangladesh – March in support of Int’l Women’s Day

Never underestimate the power of women. Especially when we’re in one accord on just one thing we all know we need. Equal status as human beings.

This means equal status in a society that honors each woman and girl as a full human being, regardless of color, country of origin, economic or social class, religion, or marital status. Not a fraction of a human being, but 100 percent human. Welcomed into every room in the house without having to wear masks, special clothes, smiles or makeup on our faces, or anything that signals we are less valued than men or boys.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 8 March 2018
Monet painting found at quadrosetelas.com.br
International Women’s Day photos found at Getty Images

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March 7, 2018

Consider the Orchids | Photos

Last week D and I took a day off to visit the Orchid show at Longwood. It wasn’t crowded, though the café and restaurant were closed for renovation. Still, it was breezy and bright, with temperatures in the low 50s (Fahrenheit).

The photos below show the entrance–not when we arrived, but just before we left late in the afternoon. The wall of orchid plants was an extension of the gift shop. Orchids for sale! The second photo is a close-up of what we didn’t buy.

Overall, I thought this year’s Orchid show wasn’t as spectacular as last year. I missed the giant ‘orchid tree,’ and didn’t think the main hall of the conservatory did justice to the theme. Nonetheless, D took some beautiful photos. Here are several of my favorites, minus their names.

Near the end of our visit we found empty seats beside the Conservatory stream and had a nice sit-down, and took photos to prove we were there.

Then D played with his camera while I rested my feet. Here are his Monet look-alike studies in water, preceded by a photo of the waterfall and stream at the far end of the main entrance to the Conservatory.

Looking at all this beauty, even in retrospect, I can’t help thinking about Jesus’ words of encouragement to the crowds of people who brought him their sick and afflicted, hoping to be healed. In addition to healing, they heard these words–the words I can’t help thinking about when I see these photos.

Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will God not much more clothe you–you of little faith?

Matthew 6:28-30 (NRSV)

No promise that everything will be as we would like it to be. Just the promise that when we seek first the kingdom of God we will have enough. Even more than enough–when we share it instead of hoarding what we do not own and cannot keep alive.

These are troubling days for this planet and all its inhabitants. I’m grateful for the beauty of nature, especially in the middle of a bleak winter.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 7 March 2018
Photos taken by DAFraser in February 2018 at Longwood Gardens

16 Comments

January 22, 2018

setting sun

setting sun
kisses cold western sky
clouds blush

The magic lasted only seconds, and this photo captures but a reminder of what my eyes saw. And still I’m drawn to it. A magnificent flame-out at the end of the day.

I wonder, are we not meant to flame out in the last years or moments of our lives? I picture the human spirit about to set off into another world. Sometimes in dire circumstances, yet always still a living human being. Never without beauty even though our eyes may not know how to see it.

Do I know how to see beauty when the photo or the reflection isn’t beautiful by my standards? We seem to have become a race obsessed with beauty. Searching for it, measuring it, trashing it and moving on quickly if we don’t find it in the moment.

I’ve often felt disappointed about what I see in the mirror of my life. Not all of it, but significant chunks of it. These days I’m beginning to see it differently. I see the reflection of a woman making her way slowly, yet surely, from one revelation about herself to another. The kind that often come at the end of the day. Beautiful to behold.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 22 January 2018
Photo taken by me with my IPad, 21 January 2018

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January 17, 2018

frozen branches

frozen branches
bent beneath iced snow –
blue-green brilliance

I can’t help thinking about the frozen beauty that resides in each of us. Waiting for a thaw. Hoping to make it through the harsh winter. Perhaps relieved when snow and ice transform our everyday into something magical. And grateful for the sun that eventually melts and softens us, one small drop at a time.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 17 January 2018
Photo taken by DAFraser, December 2013

10 Comments

January 12, 2018

two downhill haikus

dawn sky glows blue
peach clouds drift above trees
tail-lights rush downhill

II.

warm rain
melts icy snow —
races downhill

We’re blessed with a snow-emergency highway in front of our house. It’s a state highway, two lanes not four, with a steady downhill slant beginning just before our driveway. During the week, rush hour is well underway by 7am, with cars headed for the freeway, multiple yellow busses headed for schools, an occasional city bus, and trucks of all sizes and shapes on the way to deliver something somewhere.

The juxtaposition of a stunning dawn sky and tail-lights rushing downhill struck me as noteworthy. If no one saw the sky, it was because he or she was watching the tail-lights of the car just ahead, with one foot ready to hit the brakes as needed. As a retiree, I love taking time each morning to inspect the sky and clouds and whatever else is stirring when I get up.

Today a warm front is coming through from the south. Ironically, it’s driving temperatures up into the low 60s F. Steady rain has almost washed away the last remnants of snow and gritty ice, mixed with brine. All of it is racing downhill with cars, trucks and busses. The runoff heads straight for creeks and drains that empty into the Schuylkill, a major river running by and through Philadelphia.

So, my friends, here’s to a happy Friday, a lovely weekend, and time to watch the dawn/evening sky without needing to be anywhere or anybody at a certain time.

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January 3, 2018

majestic wings

majestic wings
hang in winter air
descend slowly

II.

bird of prey
touches down in old oak tree
folds majestic wings

I can’t decide which haiku I like better, so you’re getting both versions! I wish I had a video of what I saw out my kitchen window this morning. I don’t know what kind of raptor it was, but it was gorgeous. Especially its wings–much like the osprey in the photo above, but probably not an osprey. I watched for a few minutes before it took off. It was surveying our yard and a neighbor’s yard. Looking for breakfast, no doubt.

We had a little ‘heat wave’ today. That means we got up into the high 20s (Fahrenheit). Tomorrow promises a shock to the East Coast, especially in New England. We may wake up here in the Philadelphia area to wind chill in the range of minus zero degrees Fahrenheit. And snow, of course, along with strong winds. So today included a nice walk with D outdoors in the winter sun, and a trip to the grocery store.

Hoping this finds you enjoying the outdoors as much as possible.

17 Comments

December 30, 2017

without fanfare

without fanfare
snow blankets a multitude
of the fallen

A silent mercy falling from heaven. It asks no questions, requires no filled-in forms, no fees to pay or bribes expected. Just a quiet laying to rest of the fallen.

This morning I woke up to the beginning of a short, ice-cold soft snowfall. Our worlds carry so much grief on the surface and beneath the ground. Public and private. Self-inflicted and other-inflicted. The names of fallen ‘great’ men and ‘great’ women tick past our eyes in tribute to those we’ve lost.

Yet the greatest losses are small, personal, unrecorded and unacknowledged. I imagine a gentle snowfall blanketing your sorrow and mine. Letting our losses be just as they are. Invisible and not forgotten. Blanketing the overflowing wisdom and sorrow of little children, women and men everywhere.

This isn’t about romanticized loss. It’s about acknowledging the staggering number of irreplaceable lives and dreams now laid to rest in their particular beauty, agony and grandeur. Just a little lower than the angels. Each and every one.

6 Comments

December 28, 2017

my icicle

winter chill
creeps through sunlit air –
icicle sparkles

There’s only one icicle. It hangs outside my bathroom window. Lonely? Maybe. Definitely an outlier, since we haven’t had a decent ice storm yet, and our gutters are almost clean.

So there it hangs, too cold to melt, though it shrinks a bit every day. Yesterday we had another deep freeze day—with more on the way.

So what’s a lone icicle to do? Nothing. Just hang there and let the sun do its work—casting rainbow colors, glistening, showing off flaws that look like the work of a master sculptor. No dripping. Just hanging there, shrinking a bit every day. Disappearing.

I don’t often emote over icicles hanging from our gutters. They’re usually growing longer by the day, sometimes too heavy to let nature take its course. So D grabs an old ax handle we keep by the front door, throws open the windows, and whacks them to the ground.

But not this little baby. It’s there just for me. A mirror of sorts. I’m too cold to melt quickly. I’m shrinking a bit every day. And it seems I’m going nowhere for now. So there’s nothing to do but hang there in all my glory, catching and reflecting every little gleam of light that comes my way.

I had a small epiphany this week. I’ve heard a lot in the last years about just ‘being’ instead of ‘doing.’ A wonderfully freeing concept–until you can’t ‘do’ so much anymore. Yet God wants me to show up every day. Just as I am. No more and no less.

So what does it mean for me to show up right now? Sometimes the most obvious things escape me. But this week I finally got it. I show up by writing! It’s so simple. I don’t have to write something in particular, but whatever comes to mind as I hang there just under the gutter. Cold, shiny, changing every day, ready to reflect rainbow colors or nothing more than the morning sky and clouds.