Gerry brought them home a week or so ago: loud, brash looking tulips.
I pulled out my camera, affixed my macro lens, and shot a few images—knowing I’d convert them to black and white in post processing. They were too much for the calm I hungered for.
Now they’re long past their prime and there’s a different beauty in their wizened petals. I see truth when I look at them and I leave them on the table for another day.
Beautiful!
Years ago I wrote a poem about tulips that looked a lot like this.