I stepped out on a Saturday morning clicking pictures…again! But never mind me.
I looked at this one, of these two brass swans that I picked up from a dilapidated ‘antique’ shop, the day I was feeling particularly defiant, not wanting to follow the straight path from my home to the car dealership and back. So on the way back I spied this ramshackle shed of a store and picked up these two at a bargain. Every year since, I have been trying to grow annuals in them, some years with great results and others with dismal, with them just cluttering the yard with nothing but spent dirt and rain water-perfect breading ground for mosquitos.
I started looking at the pictures busy admiring the flowers, and I looked at this one. Something hitched inside me. Have you ever felt that you have stepped into a conversation between two people that you wished you hadn’t and there is no way back? The conversation that went beyond words, so even the air around them was charged with it? You somehow guilelessly step into that milieu that was exclusively theirs and now you are frozen. You don’t want to move for the fear of disturbing the almost sacred hush but you know that the paralysis that bounds you is futile. You have already stepped into the inner sanctum. And things would not be the same again. You wish you had been more careful, more aware, so you had stopped before you had stepped in.
When I looked at these two, I felt the awe, the communication they seem to be having completely oblivious of others, plants, animals and humans alike.
The aura of love and air charged with some tension that urges me and my dog to tiptoe back away, awed to have witnessed, with tinge of envy not being in the center of this picture so deep and abiding…