It was December 20. The day known as "Suzy Day" in our home.
The day our little Suzy passed away in 2013. 
The day I go visit her in our backyard and place a rock on her grave.

But this December 20 I couldn't.

It was so quiet that morning when I woke up. No sound coming from cars on the roads and a different sort of light coming in through the blinds.

Between the cold temperatures, having to dig trenches for our little dog and making sure the bird feeders were well stocked, I planned on spending most of the time hibernating inside.

Except I saw my grasses. Tall and marking the place of that new garden bed. I'd planted them in the front yard so they'd catch the setting sun. I've yet to trim them ever because I love to look at them swaying in the breeze. They are the holdouts. And this day they inspired me to spend a bit more time outside, with camera in hand.

Though ​I didn't venture from my yard.

The snow was light and feathery and I could sweep it with a broom. It landed on the delicate remnants of plants, filled all the nooks of the yard and created a roof over the pet cemetery, seemingly offering extra protection for our missed friends, as well as blanketing Suzy's special resting spot.
It brought contrast and definition to an otherwise monotone yard of lives well-lived and new ones waiting to regenerate, where it stayed for days until the rain and warmth melted it away.

This wasn't a change of season, it was just a change in days... in weather. An opportunity to see my yard with different eyes. 

​An impermanent art installation that vanished as quickly as it arrived.
Reminding me of life's impermanence. 

I bought a new camera last week, then returned it the next day because the lens stopped working. 
It was smaller and lighter and meant to be easier on my body - the days of lugging heavy cameras and lenses around are numbered for me sadly.

Long story short, I decided not to get a replacement, but now I'm second guessing that decision. It ticked a lot of boxes on my wishlist, but it's kind of taking a step backwards in the gear world in some respects. And I didn't fall in love with it when I took that first image like I've done when pressing that shutter release for the first time on my other cameras.
As well as the camera tech stuff I take into account when photographing, there's also a connected feeling I get. It may be a wee bit different, depending on which camera I use, but it's always there, no matter what camera I'm using. I didn't feel it during that short visit and I questioned if it will ever come? 
I know photography isn't just about the camera -- there's knowledge of the gear, the gear itself (camera bodies, lenses, filters), the human behind the lens, their unique perspective to their subject, post processing, etc. - reminding me of a story:

"a photographer goes to a friend's house for dinner and the host says 'you're a wonderful photographer, you must have a fantastic camera!'. At the end of the meal, the photographer says to the host 'what a wonderful meal, you must have a fantastic stove'!"

For now I'm mired in indecision so am sharing some of my test images, to "put them out there and add them into my work" to see if that changes anything for me. Some of the images have had post processing, some not.

Thanks for looking!
~wendy
​

i saw some flowers at the grocery store, i'm quite sure they were dyed yellow, but they were pretty nonetheless
i brought them to my studio where i found a dead bee on the floor under the skylight (sorry little bee)
so i pulled out my bone collection to see what I could do with these three pieces
then i grabbed some green velvety fabric, a piece of wood i'd cut and a few other props i have on hand
and started to work

my studio is in a cottage behind my parent's house
so after a bit i went outside to enlist my dad - who'd been working in the garden - to hold flowers
dad had a desk job for years but he always kept busy doing manual work - gardening, painting, puttering in the yard 
the tint of his forearms reflect his time spent outside this year

​i haven't been to my studio much over the last year because of, well, a bunch of reasons
but there's something that happens when i'm there and get in the flow
it's a very cool feeling
and afterwards when i'm done reviewing and editing the images i made, i have to decide what (and if) i'll share - put out there into the word - and often times i don't because i don't want to be judged, or have to explain my fascination with bones or dark subjects, or confuse people as they wonder why i'm not sharing more images of dogs... or whatever people think (or don't) when they see my work

but it's not about that right now... it's about just getting on with it, creating, and allowing that part of me to just do its thing without judgement... and i'm going to try to share it... or at least put it out there, right here.

thanks for visiting,
w

note - images were taken back on june 3, 2021

I've been feeling like I'm stuck with my photography, but it's probably more like I'm overwhelmed. I have projects that are partially finished but I just can't finish them. I have ideas for shoots and books. Short- and long-term projects... even a wee film. But something just isn't jiving so instead of forcing it, I'm taking a short hiatus.
My garden is proving to be a great diversion too. If given the chance to work in my garden or sit at my computer inside while the sunshines outside, I'm going to head outside.
So while I take a breather, I hope you enjoy some imagery from my ever-changing garden.

Thanks for visiting,
​wendy

i've been spending a lot of time
close to home
using tools in my garden, and my garden as a tool
this is part one.