It was last weekend when I really noticed this strange recurring pattern, and started trying to figure out the reason behind it. One theory I came up with dates back to my childhood. When I was 7 or 8 years old, my family had to leave a rental house we'd all loved. My parents bought a new home in a growing subdivision, the kind of place where the sum total of landscaping was one stick tree in the front yard, along with two squat bushes, one on either side of the door. Of course they immediately set about changing that, planting oak and birch and hemlock, catalpa and dogwood and spruce.
Entranced by the magical rooms the drooping branches can create, my sister and I lobbied hard for a weeping willow. We were utterly unconcerned by the fragile, messy nature of large willows, but ever practical, my parents demurred, instead opting for honey locust and cedar, crabapple and horse chestnut. Could my photographic loyalty to this same boring picture date back to my unmet youthful yearnings for a backyard willow world? I've been mulling this over for the last week, and oddly the process of analyzing the mystery has caused me to photograph the tree less -- I didn't take pictures of the tree on any of my three most recent walks (yesterday, Monday, or Tuesday).
Ultimately, I decided the appeal is almost entirely in the bright colors. Woods are generally pretty monochromatic places this time of year, with various shades of brown bark and brown mud. No greens yet, no flowers, and the lovely white snow has all melted. The potential energy in those willow branches just screams against the blue sky. Yellow! Life! Like the robin, it's another symbol of what is to come. Here's a sneak peak from last year, what we have to look forward to in just a few short weeks:
7 comments:
Beautiful, nice photos. Ya know, I have found that I take pictures of scenery and then do not find them particularly interesting when I see them again on the computer. I sort of wonder if it's because the camera does not do the scene any justice. Like when I am in the moment and I feel the wind on my face and see the color of the sky and am truly in the "moment" I get swept up in it. Then I see it later and it has lost it's appeal because it's no longer live? Dunno but I do the exact same thing.?.
I do the same thing -- take pictures of willow branches against blue skies. Somehow the results are never satisfying, but since digital images are essentially free, I continue shooting.
I like the idea of you being drawn to the same subject over and over, especially when it fails you in fruition. A nice sense of loyalty, or some such nonsense.
The last picture is very pretty.
I love seeing the flowers begin to bloom through, the remnants of winter fading away.
It's like watching a battle between light and dark, where, in the end, light always wins.
I was lucky as a child--I had a weeping willow--next door! I spent a lot of time in the branches of that trees and loved the tent-like screened in private area it created.
I do love the way the yellow branches look against blue sky.
I too have certain pictures I take over and over but rarely do anything with.
Good to hear from you!
As a photographer, I'm drawn again and again to the same subjects (strangers unaware, discarded objects, etc.) and I have yet to figure out why.
I think Momma Val might be on to something. Maybe we long to take a piece of it with us, but find the piece we take short of beauty, even if the photograph is gorgeous.
Seems like you might have the right idea on why you're taking the willow shots, especially since it has caused you to stop taking them lately. Interesting!
Gorgeous photos...I love willow trees--I always have.
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