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Even after six or so years together, there are eggshells, invisible to the head, unseen by the heart, that remain unmapped on a seemingly familiar and well trodden domestic terrain. Once easily negotiated undertakings can become mysteriously delicate acts, innocuous before, however suddenly marked by the dimmest spousal regard. (A capricious mind, after all, is the hardest one to satisfy.) Such occasions I’ve learnt are only rarely worth the energy a contentious resolution demands and it’s much easier to throw flowers at most disenchantment. The Gerbera above belonged to an apology I made for something. It lived longer – taller and prouder, too – than anything else in the bouquet.

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Pert Dandelions drew me. That’s a line I never expected to write but I often come across ordinary thoughts, observations and the like, that when articulated, take on an extraordinary aspect. On the day before the Posie shot, I randomly harvested some Seed Heads (another wikipedian assist) with the view of nailing down one of the staples of macro-nature-photography – the undispersed Dandelion sphere – but became very bored with pictures other more patient and technically gifted people had already done a better job of. With the sour taste of defeat creeping into the endeavour, I began to look around when before me, magnified in a water filled glass, was this splaying coiling stem. Intrigued, I realised that if my hour was going to yield a result then this was where it lay. Was this worth a post? I don’t know.

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I found colour where I hadn’t expected. It was when I was keeping up my end of the conjugal bargain and hanging out the laundry that I discovered wild flowers in my garden. (We’re in a rented joint, doing up a house on the other side of town, and this place is not a plot that encourages love and attention.) Their presence and vitality were enough though for me to unzip my camera and take some photographs. I genuinely enjoyed myself getting down in the long grass and lining up this unknown blossom. The crowd above had sky blue petals with a rich yellow centre. Even though I’ve stolen these in my post-processing washery, their part in prompting me to get outside makes me grateful.

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The soothing fractal patterns of a flower were lost on me once. Not now. I like the journey my gaze can take over the consistent irregularities of form and the near endless provision of surprise. (The anomalous topographies, the skeleton of veins within the opaque velvetine epidermis, the…) Few would want to read more of that sort of thing so I’ll stop there. This is the third and final iteration of the rose in my kitchen. This is my favourite of the three. Should anyone get to look at this, (I loathe the promotional aspects of blogging) , let me know what you think.

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Firmly held this time: LX3, ISO800, f2, 1/40, processed with Aperture 3

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I’m the man educating himself in a room full of levers and switches. Giddily racking the sliders on the adjustment panel from one side to the next, whoosh! whoosh! Lurching from one hue to the other, finding texture where there was none, exchanging light edges for dark corners.  This is the same rose as the one pictured in the previous post. The full frontal frame is complemented by a more natural palette this time even though the complexion tells you it’s been heavily reworked. Best thing – and this isn’t an Aperture plug – I learnt how to lift wholesale the adjustments from one picture to the next. Serious bonus. Again the end result is one I like. Transformation is the easy part, understanding what works and what doesn’t is the thing. I think I kept myself in check.

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Brandished: LX3, ISO800, f2, 1/25, handheld, Aperture 3 assisted

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Took this picture quickly. The camera was lying around the kitchen table. Above was a bouquet, in a vase, splaying with age. (The flowers were given as some sort of apology for one of the many misdemeanours I commit, it seems, quite inadvertently.) It was late and I was drinking tea, twitching, thinking how I hadn’t taken a photo in ages. The camera was set to RAW as usual. The only thing I did was change the ISO to 800 – up so close I found I was blocking the light – and shot away. On the live review, it looked unremarkable. Then, a couple of days later, I fumbled through a myriad of post-processing trickery on Aperture 3, using brushes I’d never looked at and here we are. I like it.