If you take a flower in your hand and really look at it, it’s your world for a moment.

 –Georgia O’Keeffe

To anyone who knows me, it’s no secret that I am enamored with flowers. I love everything about them – the rainbow of colors, myriad of shapes, textures, designs and all the curls and curves that make each one different and special. Just having them in the house and growing outside feeds a part of my soul like nothing else. I love them in the wild, in the fields and meadows, and in the woods. I love them in the gardens – anywhere and everywhere. It’s a lifetime love affair.

Floating in the clouds of purple hydrangea.

I love the flowers as they fade into old and wrinkled. Most of all, I love their beauty at every single stage, in every turn and twist and curve. Whether it’s a single bloom or gathered in bunches, it’s their beauty that draws me in and soothes my soul. I miss my favorite gardens, as many of them have been and are still closed, Thankfully, there are very few places where flowers will not grow. Even the side of the road holds treasures that invite pauses in the days.

Layers of lavender.

Dreaming in dianthus.

When I photograph flowers, I’m drawn to what makes each one unique. These last five months I’ve done a lot of flower explorations. And, what I’ve found is that on the deeper dives, the longer sessions, it’s been the petals that have held my attention most often and the longest. So, in this post, I’m sharing my petals. I encourage you to find and pay focused attention to whatever brings a sense of relief and peace into your world – even for a short time.

It’s important to find the good in each day, to focus on what lifts you up, and to share with others. You never know the impact you may have on someone’s day, but when you spread and sow seeds of light, something good is almost certain.

Falling in love with the ripples of a lisianthus.

My pattern of behavior in photographing my flowers leans toward moving in close, sometimes too quickly. So, I’ve been working on slowing down my approach (at least somewhat) by making sure I take the “bigger picture” first – and more than one – before diving in. That practice (and I do have to practice) is helping. I still end up in the deep end of the pool – the “petal pool” – swimming in the details.

I guess you could say that I am a “petal pusher.” There are worse things. I can’t help myself. Truth be told, I really don’t want to. I love the petals and all the intricate details. I just need to capture a frame that reminds me of where I started. There are times when I can go so deep that recognition of the specific flower becomes a mystery. It becomes a moment of “essence.”

Awash in the petals of pink zinnia.

If you were to sit on my shoulder as I immerse myself in the flowers, you would hear me whisper to myself and to them. You would feel my heart beat, my breathing slow down and would see my shoulders drop as the tension drips away. You would see the light on my face shine and my eyes brighten. It doesn’t take long … even an hour with one flower is enough.

Deep dives with bee balm.

Cherry blossoms floating in the frame.

You would be surprised at the depth in the conversations I have with my flowers. I am not alone in this.

Auguste Rodin said, “The artist is the confidant of nature, flowers carry on dialogues with him through the graceful bending of their stems and the harmoniously tinted nuances of their blossoms. Every flower has a cordial word which nature directs towards him.”

I am in good company.

Resting in the curves of a calla lily.

I don’t have a plethora of wise words for you this time. I simply invite you into my petal journey and hope that they give you some moments of peace and calm. We need that, always.

I hope that you will discover your own “petals” that lift you up, take you away and fill moments of your days with hope.

Magic in the moments with a tulip.

A different spin on a zinnia.

Hooded woman in the ruffles of columbine.

Reveling in rudbeckia.

Purple dreams in hydrangea.

Visual play with a dahlia.

Dancing in the curls and twirls of a dahlia.

Look closely into the center of a flower, and a heart appears.