The Isolation Journals - 101

This journaling project has transitioned to a weekly prompt, so I'll be attempting to keep up the habit.  Truthfully, I'm relieved that it's not a daily thing anymore, now that the (virtual) school year is approaching and I'll have less free time.  This week's prompt comes from painter Raven Roxanne.

Prompt:  Think about the last time you looked at something and noticed a change within—studying a painting, an animal, a flower, a piece of fruit, what you saw through a window. Write about what you saw, and what you felt shift.

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Not That Kind of Weed

I have this thing for getting up close and personal with flowers.  It's not macro photography, per se, because I don't have a lens especially for that purpose, but I really get off on, as Andy calls it, "zooming in on some shit."  This habit isn't limited to flowers, though.  Sometimes it's moss, or flaking paint, or rusty metal, a cat's nose.  Anything with an interesting texture that reveals new layers on close inspection - any inanimate object or animal that lacks a concept of personal space will do.  Usually, though, it's flowers.  

Don't mistake me for a gardening enthusiast.  In fact I have two brown thumbs.  They might even be toes, I'm that bad at keeping plants alive.  I can't even manage a cactus, which is probably why I find flowers to be so miraculous.  It's a mystery to me (despite, you know, honors bio and college level science courses) how flowers do their delicate, sexy thing, and how anyone can cultivate one without murdering it from either outright neglect or helicopter parenting.

Sometimes this attraction to anything with petals leads me down the wrong path.  On a trip to Amsterdam four summers ago, I was living my best photography life.  Flowers everywhere, soft lighting to die for.  I found an intriguing, shoulder-height stalk, with soft pink conical blossoms, protruding from a crack in the concrete alongside the canal.  Commence the zooming.

After I got my shot, Andy, waiting patiently with arms crossed and foot tapping, interjected, "You know that's just a weed, right?"

"No way!  It's beautiful!"

Later that night, our Dutch host, a college friend of Andy's, confirmed.  It was a blight, an invasive species.  It's true what they say about Amsterdam, though.  They really do have some of the best weeds.