03 September 2023

in the Embers, now we glow.

I learned a hard lesson when I killed a plant by photographing it too much. &so, ever since that event, I've been conscientious about which plants I do and do not photograph.

It's become apparent to me—since having houseplants of my own to take care of, starting at about twenty-five years of age, back in 2010 when the bodybuddy/lifemate &I moved in together to start our life together, etc.—that some plants do not like to be photographed, just like any living thing with preferences, etc.

I tried to grow an apple seed that was already sprouting when I cut an apple in half, sometime back in 2019, whilst living in Seattle, WA, USA. I cut an apple in half, and one of the seeds fell out, and it was sprouting. I planted it, and photographed it, basically, every day

It died shortly after growing real leafy leaves.

Its death made me sad, and I, obviously, blamed myself. 

I learned, later on, that you absolutely cannot grow an apple seed indoors, etc., so it wasn't really my fault, except that my ignorance prohibited me from knowing better than to even try, etc. 


[a diamond-shaped sign that reads "DETOUR AHEAD" appears in the foreseeable distance... ]

There's some Swae Lee song from the first Spider-Man whatever animated movie, and he sings "never-the-less" as three distinct syllables. Respect.

[you hit a bump, and the sign ahead reads, "END CONSTRUCTION ZONE"]

damn it, now i've forgotten what i was trying to say (thank you, gummies). 

I felt sad, because I realized that I photograph a lot of foliage, and it doesn't have the opportunity to request that I not. &so, since that fated day finding that my apple seed would not continue living indoors, I've taken the time to get to know my plants before I photograph them. When outdoors, I try not to take too many pictures, and I try to keep my distance. And, I always try to let them have enough time to get a whiff of me before I start snapping, and if I'm just not getting a good angle on the thing, I take the hint, and leave it alone. 

For my houseplants, I always take a snap from a distance, nonchalant, nothing special, just looking over there, and oh, sorry, I snapped a pic. That sorta thing. Then I wait a week or two to see how it responds. If it starts looking more photogenic, I take note and hope that I will be inspired to photograph it some day in exactly the right light, etc. And then, if the day comes when I'm looking at it, and it just looks irresistible, I inevitably grab whichever camera will do the work best and snap some pics. 

What I know so far is that our first houseplant, [name redacted, for its safety], does not want to be photographed. How I know is private, but I know. Our second houseplant must be some kinda Leo, cause yea, it's, well, you're about to see. And our third houseplant has yet to be snapped at a distance as we just acquired it yesterday. It's a beauty, which is giving me the feeling that it will either die upon taking its first from-a-distance snap, out of rage at my vanity, or it will thrive beyond measure, so much so that it'll require its own instagram, etc. Only time will tell. 

*deep breath in*

And we're here now. 

I took a "no-biggie" snap of our second houseplant maybe two weeks ago or so, and since then, well, let's just say it must be some sorta camera whore, cause, damn, it's a fucking beauty. And then, yesterday, Ladybug caught me, and I snapped a ton of pics with Baby Kenneth (my best camera) loaded with the prime lens.   

I share the best of the bunch with you now.

Happy (what the fuck day is it? checks computer settings) Sunday.