You can't take a picture of this....

Because it's already gone.

Really, it is.

Those lilacs? The scent went from intoxicating to nauseating in a few days.

It went so fast it made me dizzy.

All gone now, brown and crispy flower petals are all that remain.

Those iris? They were magnificent. They really were.

All gone now too.

All that fur on my furry, furry dog, who dragged in all those little petals and seed pods and things that fall off the honey locust, hickory and birch trees? He brought in pounds of that stuff. 

Well, that fur is gone now too. His tail still brings in more than it should, but it's better.

Here's what remains: wild roses and viburnums.

White, fragrant and fleeting.

Gone in a matter of days, maybe hours at this point.

And some hardy roses and catmint. I think that's it, until the daylillies and sedum and coneflower burst forth for their moment in the sun.

I'm learning that that's just how it goes, brief, brilliant waves of colors and smells, a frantic rush to bloom and reproduce and then gone. It's never long enough for me, always too fast and frantic, and I try, I do, to walk among them, sit near them, smell the fragrances, marvel at the delicacy and tenacity and miracle of it all, to take it all in.

And I take these pictures as a testament.

Here today,

gone tomorrow.

I learn this lesson over and over and over again.

And I hear these words in my head every time I run for the camera to catch the things that take my breath away:

You can't take a picture of this, it's already gone.

But I try, I try. It's what I do.

What else can I do?

(scene from the finale from 6 feet under, one of my favorite shows ever - extended clip at the bottom of my blog page if you're feeling nostalgic for the whole clip....)

Take those pictures anyway,

they help us to remember the good stuff.

xo