I’m a sucker for any image, environment, conversation or person with whom I can begin to imagine something more than what meets the eye. I suppose this habit developed in my childhood when my imagination was as fertile as this Salinas field of lettuce being plowed under.
In those days, as a young girl, I was often Bill Hartack riding Northern Dancer in the 1964 Kentucky Derby or Elizabeth Taylor hurdling over Becher’s Brook in the Grand National Steeplechase (and winning without event).
These days, I am drawn to animal photography, horse and bison paintings, fields of tall grasses and water. As for people, I am selfishly attracted to those who seem to like me and want to know what I think about things.
Have you ever been sharing something that has happened to you and the person to which you are sharing begins to tell you what happened to her/him? Or you send an email with events in your life and the person never responds? I do not understand this method of operation.
I love cut alfalfa fields. The crop is almost there. Almost. I suppose this is the time in which the farmer frets a bit, praying that his cut grasses dry appropriately so that they can be baled. This image reminds me of the contrast between sky and hill, ground and grass. I am the farmer with a blade of alfalfa in my mouth, walking the field, inspecting the territory. The smell is rich. The sound is quiet (with the exception of a tractor humming in the distance.) A cup of coffee awaits me back at the farmhouse.
The horizontal response to life is comforting. But what about the vertical?
You can tell that this scene is oh-so- close to the Pacific Ocean. Look at the foggy mists that envelop the hills. Two of the cattle spot me. I’m outed! There in the shade of a pine by the sea, I listen to the crash of waves on the rocks and I picture hiking country like this far away. Scotland? Ireland? England? Could I do it at my age?
I retreat up the hill where the elevation begins to force quads and hamstrings to work a bit. The cattle flatten out and the blues of the sky, fog, and sea make their statements. Again, back to the grasses where I find myself hiding, wondering if my parents will find me.
There on the road a purple plant reminds me that life is full of color despite the grey of the road. I’m taken back to one of my favorite books as a child–“Harold and the Purple Crayon.”
Life is rich. Let your juices flow. Imagine what you will.