Mon petit choux

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Hah! I finally get to say that for real, after 46 years as a human from earth. This picture delights me on all sorts of levels. Look at those colors! Look at the waxy patina on those leaves! The best thing, is that I grew the cabbage myself, out of the ground. I plucked out the weeds and salted the slugs, and now it sits in the fridge waiting to be turned into slaw.

Well not quite – its adjacent buddies await that fate, but this particular specimen just looked so great that I left it in the ground too long waiting for it be the greatest cabbage it could possibly be, and when we picked it it was fetid and disgusting. Sigh. I have a lot to learn.

Here’s the thing: it sort of amazes me that I’m that guy, the middle-aged chap who’s rhapsodizing about the vegetables in his garden, and then photographing the damn things. What’s next? Garden shows? Agricultural fairs? I’ve always enjoyed photographing the latter, but let’s get real!

Gardening is a nice cheap metaphor for photography, in many respects. The garden needs constant nurturing and winnowing, just as the trajectory of a photographers career does. The individual events and moments require rigorous attention and decisive action, but there is also the longer span to consider, the periods in which certain areas of one’s practice must lie fallow in order to rejuvenate. The ravelled sleeve of care blah blah (or is it time - what the hell does that saying mean, anyway?)

A meta observation: this is a blog, not a book, and I must resist the temptation to turn every entry into War & Peace. Trust me – it’s not a temptation that easy for me to resist.