Getting to It

The Easter Lily cactus opened this morning in my front garden. It's late this year, holding back as the unseasonable cool air blows through the valley. Birds are mating late, or so it seems and I think of the little babies that will welter in the summer heat when it comes. It always comes.

This is as large a view of the world that I can deal with lately. Just a few petals, not even a whole bloom. I even drop the f-stop low to blur the background and focus only on the flower. My lens gets dusted with pollen from stuffing it in like a hungry bee.

Scale is relative. Minutia always seems immense to me, overwhelming even. I prefer details over master plans, one great sentence over an epic novel.

Too much stimuli nauseates me.