Earth and Sky

wild rose

Sweet perfume circles and twirls around me as I walk; sometimes weaving through the tangled arms of the bushes near the trail sometimes wandering over the morning meadow or playing hide and seek in the still dark places under the trees. One moment the rioting wild roses hold me close with clinging thorns begging me to stand still and breathe in the heady fragrance and the next they call me to follow as they run away on the breeze. Which is better?

As I move along I notice that I can tell how near the rose bushes are not only by the strength of the fragrance but also by the quality. Near at hand the pure essence is overwhelming. Bees, unable to resist, pay no attention to me as they gorge themselves on nectar. Further away there is time for the sweetness to mingle with the earth, the morning, the other flowers. A spiciness is added – almost like sugar glazed cinnamon rolls baking in an oven, but lighter and more elusive.

Ethereal and lighter than air the rose soars and floats where ever the wind blows silently invisibly gently reaching deep into my mind coaxing out memories and emotions that have lain dormant.

The running stream has a different allure. The rose’s power is veiled behind a lithe spirit. The water’s power is bold and obvious. It exhilarates with flashes of light, hissing and rumbling, and cold drenching. It grabs me with both hands and yanks me into a crashing rushing world that blocks out all else.

The rose is of the sky; the water is of the earth. Water plows along the ground cutting through stone and dragging down trees. Always chattering and writhing in its channel, it frets within the confines of a self imposed prison. Gravity drags it ever onward and although it seems to delight in its power as it leaps and bounds, still it never has the chance to break its chains and run free into the forest.

The rose runs afield and socializes with the other flowers. It lets the currents of the air take it where they will. But the morning breeze is gentle and playful – it teases and never runs too far or too fast.

When I finally emerge from the gully wet and worn out, the rose is there to greet me – but only just. The afternoon wind has blown in cruel and harsh. The crashing water ignores the wind, but the light fragrant rose is blown roughly away and dispersed. No more dancing among the fluttering leaves. Now it is all pushing and shoving.

Borne on the wind comes the rain to rinse the air fresh. The steps of the dance drip down and wash away. They mingle with the water and eventually add to the power of the stream. Time to go inside and curl up in a quiet place and wait for another morning.



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6 Responses to “Earth and Sky”

  1. fencer Says:

    Hi forestrat,

    That last shot must be a pinhole, no?

    Very evocative…


    • forestrat Says:

      I’m really bad about this kind of stuff. You know, I used to try and write down all my settings and stuff when I took photos. I figured it might be helpful as I reviewed the final product to hone my skills for later.

      That lasted all of about about 2 weeks!

      Now I sort of let ideas and techniques roll around in my brain, but I never write anything down or even try to remember anything specific. Since I turn off all the automatic stuff on my camera and disable any lens to camera links, I can’t even look in the EXIF to get any information.

      I’m pretty sure that I took that last shot using my new Loreo fixed lens thingy at probably f/64. Just a guess though.


  2. flandrumhill Says:

    The photo of the roses is quite a nice surprise. The greys in the shadows on the petals contrast so nicely with the bright gold in the one fresh bloom of the bunch. They look like Dog Roses.

    I’ve never been very moved by the scent of roses…. however, having fallen under the spell of jasmine flowers on a Greek island years ago, I can understand how the scent of flowers can be powerful.

    Your comparison of the water with the roses was a pleasure to read.

    • forestrat Says:

      Thanks, flandrum.

      I’m not big on roses either, at least the cultivated kind. Fortunately the wild roses aren’t quite the same especially when blended with other wild plants.

      I used to live in California and the smell of the orange trees at night was fantastic.


  3. lookingforbeauty Says:

    Hi Forestrat,
    That’s an exquisite photo of the roses. The play of light and shadow is lovely. Great writing too. Reading it, I just feel like I’m being there.

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