And yes, you guessed it, it’s that time of the year

Oh wow, finally sat down at the computer and opened the blog page. Victory! I actually think I should be celebrating with some vino right now, this is becoming such a rarity that it calls for some $10,000 bottle of bubbly stuff, not wine. I should be sitting here glass of champagne in hand. No, I should be typing this from a super expensive foam filled bath glass of champagne by my side. But since that’s not gonna happen anytime soon, let’s get to business. The photography business.

I think I might have developed an obsession. I have always loved flowers and nature, I love being surrounded by green (in nature, otherwise not necessarily my favourite colour), I enjoy gardening and looking at floral arrangements, but I have never imagined I would get to experience physical pain from photographing a single tree branch for a few hours. I love blooming stuff. The more I think about it, the higher the chances of this space getting filled exclusively with photos of blooming stuff. I had almost promised myself I was going to diversify once I get to expand my shooting territory, which for now includes my home and my yard. And occasionally the neighbourhood historic park.

I tried, seriously, I tried, but I somehow end up shooting blooming stuff around my home irrespective of what the initial plan was. I want to photograph people, I end up shooting blooming stuff at home. I want to photograph landscapes, I end up shooting blooming stuff at home. I want to photograph interesting buildings, I end up shooting blooming stuff at home. Wait till the day I think I am about to shoot a wedding and end up at home. Or a birth session loooool.

So here’s a peak at what I have been doing these days and somehow managed not to get picked up by an ambulance called by neighbours getting worried I might be out of my mind to spend a few good hours bent over a tiny tree branch. Thank God it was warm outside, so everyone focused on more pleasant stuff other than watching me inert for hours.

M.

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