I wrote in November about shooting and seeing — our tendency in the age of smart phones to capture and then send along images without first genuinely apprehending: frame, click, post … and on to the next.
This is not “capture” at all but escape of a worrisome, corrosive sort, a failure of presence that reflects an endemic modern spiritual malaise: the absence of attention and, with it, the ability to fully inhabit and appreciate our lives and the world in which they are lived.
This morning, though, I was graced by a corollary truth: the capacity of cameras to enhance our vision and attentiveness, and hence, our sense of wonder.
It started with a morning chore: re-filling the waterer in the hens’ run. I didn’t know that the mercury had dipped below freezing last night until I unscrewed the base, and was greeted by delicate stalagmites extending from the walls of the container. (Click on any image to see a larger version.)
I focused on images that reflect a poignant and yet promising aspect of spring: new life, juxtaposed against the old.