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the last of them
“Dried and faded flowers” is a bit of a cliche, isn’t it? The flowers here were eleven days old when I photographed them and instead of fading, their color grew more and more concentrated, the way a sun-dried tomato takes on a deeper red and a richer, more nuanced flavor that its fresh version.
I didn’t eat these flowers at any point, so my comparison is more a product of my brain than a simple statement of facts.
But anyway…here’s the last of the dried flower photographs. Tomorrow it’s on to something else.
Lubbock, Texas
photographed 5.26.2025
eventually it fades
Is “focus” a suggestion instead of hard photographic rule?
Do those yellow petals look like flashes of fish in a pond?
Lubbock, Texas
photographed 5.26.2025
false rain
Me + a spray bottle + lots of side-eye from our houseguests got me this picture.
Lubbock, Texas
photographed 5.23.2025
the way through
This is the beginning of the end of the dead-flower images. For now.
I grew up in a house full of “Early American” furniture, which featured really shiny maple pieces. My mom had a set of table pads that we put down over the kitchen table any time we used it, to protect that fancy finish.
It will not surprise you, probably, to know I took a different approach with my furniture. My own kitchen table is pine; it used to be waxed but that wore off decades ago. In the interim, it’s built up a lot of character, with scratches and marks and a variety of stains. Most of the stains fade over time, which is a moral lesson that I am too lazy right now to write about. The current most prominent stain is some turquoise fountain pen ink that got away from me. It’s already being absorbed into the wood, and on its way to becoming a forgotten thing that happened.
Lubbock, Texas
photographed 5.23.2025
all attempts at reconciliation failed
To be clear: these flowers were fresh and fragrant when I received them. Ten days later, though, they were neither of those things.
You know my mind rarely follows a straight line, so maybe you’ll see that this made sense to me: I thought it would be entertaining to turn the “dew on flowers” trope around and make dewy drops all over dead flowers. I know: it sounds dumb now that I see it written down. And maybe I ought to have written it down BEFORE I took a pile of photos.
I don’t know how much trope-turning I did, but I did find out that wet, dead roses are really stinky.
Lubbock, Texas
photographed 8.18.2024
One Day | One Image 