Drifting through Beth’s garden in the quiet still morning I was unsure whether I would take any pictures. I just wanted some time to appreciate her marvelous Oregon garden so full of choice plants and foliage textures. Before you take a decent picture you have to see it; and I am unsure of my vision these days.
My eyes are not right. The cataract surgery went smoothly enough but I am still left with the pronounced vision loss in the left eye from the detached retina surgeries. I am wearing a single contact lens in the “good” eye but feel very unsure of my balance, have limited stereo vision, and not seeing the way I want to see.
I can’t yet put my finger on what is not right, but I do know there is no going back. My vision will never be the same.
Angst. No better word as I look for some inspiration in a garden I know should inspire, even in this quiet season of late summer. I have it to myself. Quiet, a cathedral in the trees.
What DO I see ? Relax and respond. I see light when it hits me in the face. I see it blur in my eyes and flare across everything. Are there pictures here? Do I have to see my old definition of beauty ? And if I don’t, what DO I see ?
Let this be the new reality. Trust the story. Embed the feeling. I let the journalist in me play with the Moss Man as he holds a seat for Beth’s departed sister.
But what else? Where is beauty ? I don’t know damn it ! I feel all swirly and unsteady; shapes blur and meld. Shoot that then. See what happens in the computer later. The camera image is only the starting point; and the journey continues.
