Talks to me.
In more ways than I can talk to you.
You see - I quite like dead flowers.
Spent many many years collecting and photographing and creating with them.
Pieces of dead flower stuck onto paper - coloured fancy, Joss paper. And taped onto my walls.
Or stitched and sewed onto fabric.
Or simply left arranged in vases in corners of rooms.
I love the dried up curl of their petals.
And the faded muted colours they become.
Also, I love what they mean and feel.
The dead flower, if left on the plant to die naturally, isn't dead at all. It's simply the fruit blooming and growing. And the fruit become the seed. Which becomes the new plant and the new flower and the new flesh all over again.
And when I pick them and see them dead sitting there, the cycle is obvious.
Even though I've broken the cycle. Cut it. I still know it is happening with the other blooms still on the plant.
I will hopefully have many interesting and wonderful and life affirming photos of dead flowers to show after my journey to NZ. Let's see.
For now, it's way way past my bedtime. xxx