Before I bought a DSLR and took photography as a serious hobby, I never appreciated floral photography. I even vowed not to take pictures of flowers when I got my camera. To me, it’s mundane. I’d rather take a picture of my white blank wall than photograph a flower.
But when my green-thumb mom asked me to take photos of her garden, of her flowers, before the cooler temperatures of Fall takes them, I couldn’t say no. A good son has to do what his mother has asked him to do.
So, last Sunday, while my parents were in church, I went to their house to take pictures of their garden. At first, I wasn’t really excited. It felt like as if I’m going to do laundry, a chore. But when I got to their backyard, I saw my mom’s garden in full bloom. Different colors were dancing in front of my eyes. I got excited.
That’s when I realized that photography is indeed an art. Because it changes the way you see things. Back then, a flower was just a flower to me. Now, it’s color and it’s shape. It’s a dying beauty that I will immortalize in a photograph. A photograph that will remind my Mother of her own work of art.
Unfortunately, I was only able to take photographs of four flowers. I was moving on to my fifth subject when something cut me off my path. It was black and leathery. It was slithering on the wet grass, and about a foot and a half long. When I realized what it was, I ran back into the house and locked myself in.
In retrospect, the snake was probably as scared as I am. I should’ve stayed my ground and took photos of it too.