Up close: plants around the neighborhood

A week or two ago, it occurred to me that one way to improve my plant photography would be to, gasp, practice. I’m fortunate to live in an area where neighborhood walks yield a wealth of lovely things to look at, so recently I spent an afternoon wandering about and photographing plants I don’t currently have in my garden, but admire when I see them out and about.

After no doubt puzzling several passersby as I took one photo, then another, then squinted down at my phone screen attempting to check focus and select a reasonable zoom or crop, here are a few of the results. Plants to grow myself another year, perhaps!

Euphorbia (I think)
Pepper tree, with berries (are these the edible kind of pepper? I don’t know)
No idea, but isn’t it lovely? Some kind of succulent.
Plum or cherry blossom.
Another no-idea. The blossoms are just incredibly tiny and delicate.

I’m reasonably happy with these. Once I accepted that post-photo-taking editing was not a thing I’d do, and so whatever I could achieve in the moment was what I would end up with, I started looking at things more closely. I also discarded a lot of photos. It was interesting – I don’t think photography is ever going to become an in-depth hobby for me, but the attention spent on this felt entirely worthwhile.

And now, winter

The last of the confused roses, misled by last week’s high temperatures.

Friday came the first of the rain. Just a little, just enough to dampen the pavement and puddle under the drainspouts – but rain nonetheless. The wind rose, the sky darkened, and I was glad we’d gotten the shed built before winter swept in.

Because swept in it has – or at least, what passes for winter in these parts. I picked a full bowl of apples, the pomegranates are ripe, and it’s probably about time to gather in the last of the tomatoes (which will also stop them overwhelming the cabbages; one of the things I’m learning is when to plant things near to each other when I’m expecting the season to change, and when to definitely not). The peapods are filling up, the arugula is practically going wild, and I’m hopeful about the broccoli and carrots.

Perhaps even more than usual, this feels like a period of transition. The US election is finally, finally counted & in, after the longest period of suspense I can remember (other than Bush v Gore, where people were still dressing up as “hanging chads” the following Halloween – but back then, I was too young to care so much, or to realize how unusual it really was). Personally, too, I’m staring at change, and figuring out what I think of it, and what I want to do about it. Eight months of work-as-videocalls combined with some professional setbacks has caused me to regard the whole thing differently, and to think harder about what I actually want. I lost a family member recently, so mortality rears its head too.

If not now, when?