We used to dance. When she was very young I’d swing my daughter around under the moon on a sandy beach. On a crowded dance floor, or in the living room, I sang as we twirled together. Now, my soothing nightly grief ritual: humming the old tunes to the ghost of my daughter. One of the songs always brings up images of blithe spirits waltzing around the moon.
Here my moon is really the rock that holds a bug screen down over my garden. Wilted lettuce plants are the dancers. A wave of foamy residue left on the shore by the receding tide becomes my horizon line. The whole scene is framed with the drainage strip that lies beneath my front door, spliced and inverted in Photoshop.
Walt Whitman, in his “Songs of Myself” from Leaves of Grass, wrote, “If you want me again, look for me under your boot-soles.” There, where my feet tread, is where I mainly focus the camera.
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What a fine moon-rock, and entirely fitting with wilted lettuce, and an insulation strip as a frame. I love your fake landscape and your memories of dancing in the moonlight with Marika. She was a darling child.
It’s just so satisfying, Lucy, to be photoshopping and creating these silly landscapes. I spend hours upon hours doing it and see no end in sight yet. What on earth!, I wonder as I miss mealtimes and sometimes end up late for appointments, completely immersing myself in this. Yeesh!
Lovely, as usual, Robin.
Thank you, Libby. Looking forward to seeing how sand and gravel turned out for everyone. Haven’t seen my pics yet but am hoping I can squeak out a fake landscape or two from all of that.