![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
When I was at the Gardens on Friday, I did not take very many photographs. It was one of those moments that does not feel like it can be captured in a photograph, when too many things felt or heard but not seen play a part in the totality, and when, for that matter, the moment and the things around you are so vividly there that to put a camera between you and it would be to lessen the experience. (The camera almost always enhances it for me, by helping me look deeper, or has no effect - but in this case, not so much so. It was one of those endless long moments when I was just there, wholly there, and didn't really care to step back enough to frame pictures.)
I took a few photographs, mostly when the mood broke or for a few other reasons. And I sat and wrote, on a bench by a little waterfall.
What I wrote:
It is everything today, not just the seen. Yes, the rows of iris not yet blooming, the green drape of the willow. But also the feel of the path beneath my feet, the way the body feels walking uphill or down, on paving or gravel, on stairs. The way the wind brushes at my face, toys with my hair, the coolness of the air whether moving or near-still. The birds -- crows, mostly -- calling overhead. The waterfall, not just a tumbling stream to the eyes, but a constant pattering sound. The moss on the trees. The smell of clean damp earth, and moss, and growing things. The other visitors here - the slap of shoe to stone, the quiet murmur that distance makes of a normal talk, the seeming-idle babble of an infant. The reds and whites of flowers. A falling petal. The shoe hanging idly from my toes, only my sock sheltering my heel from the breeze. The scuffs in the mud where someone left the path. Car brakes. A bus, beeping as it backs. A train horn in the distance. Clouds overhead, but so bright the eyes water to look, and see no texture. The feel of the pen in my hand, the paper beneath soft to brush with fingers.
--
After I wrote that I continued up to the Pavillion, where I did take some photos as they are remodelling it - new wood, mostly, but also replacing the stone stairs that faced toward the entrance gate with wooden ones. Inside was the doll exhibit, which I wandered through but took no photos of. It felt a little disrespectful to do so, which is why I put the camera away as I entered (though there was no sign saying not to), but also once I was inside, I did not find the dolls all that interesting or attractive, so I soon wandered back out.
The pictures I did take and upload:
Pond in the strolling pond garden - near the iris beds.
Waterfall pond in the strolling pond garden - other end of the iris beds, with a nice framing (my opinion!) of the lantern.
And the front and back (new steps) of the reworked pavillion.
I took a few photographs, mostly when the mood broke or for a few other reasons. And I sat and wrote, on a bench by a little waterfall.
What I wrote:
It is everything today, not just the seen. Yes, the rows of iris not yet blooming, the green drape of the willow. But also the feel of the path beneath my feet, the way the body feels walking uphill or down, on paving or gravel, on stairs. The way the wind brushes at my face, toys with my hair, the coolness of the air whether moving or near-still. The birds -- crows, mostly -- calling overhead. The waterfall, not just a tumbling stream to the eyes, but a constant pattering sound. The moss on the trees. The smell of clean damp earth, and moss, and growing things. The other visitors here - the slap of shoe to stone, the quiet murmur that distance makes of a normal talk, the seeming-idle babble of an infant. The reds and whites of flowers. A falling petal. The shoe hanging idly from my toes, only my sock sheltering my heel from the breeze. The scuffs in the mud where someone left the path. Car brakes. A bus, beeping as it backs. A train horn in the distance. Clouds overhead, but so bright the eyes water to look, and see no texture. The feel of the pen in my hand, the paper beneath soft to brush with fingers.
--
After I wrote that I continued up to the Pavillion, where I did take some photos as they are remodelling it - new wood, mostly, but also replacing the stone stairs that faced toward the entrance gate with wooden ones. Inside was the doll exhibit, which I wandered through but took no photos of. It felt a little disrespectful to do so, which is why I put the camera away as I entered (though there was no sign saying not to), but also once I was inside, I did not find the dolls all that interesting or attractive, so I soon wandered back out.
The pictures I did take and upload:
Pond in the strolling pond garden - near the iris beds.
Waterfall pond in the strolling pond garden - other end of the iris beds, with a nice framing (my opinion!) of the lantern.
And the front and back (new steps) of the reworked pavillion.
no subject
hello and thanks
I do love that Japanese Garden. I've only been there once but it made such an impression on me. Just being there is what I'd do too - but photos are nice too.
I just wanted drop by to say thanks. - kara aka spiritdoll
no subject