Drink tea before bed with milk and honey, tell the bees, breathe in the late summer light and rest safe from time a few minutes longer...
I was hoping by this point in the summer I would be photographing lots of images with that beautiful honeyed light, the late summer brings, but it has been stormy for weeks, raining for what feels like months and always grey. Night seems to fall quickly without those long sunsets I had hoped for, hours of gold and rose light, as thick as syrup...
The leaves have started to turn, and the garden seems stunned by so much rain, I have barely seen any bees. As much as I love autumn, I had hoped to capture the summer dying summer, but it seems to have died suddenly in the night...
I'll have to re-think or make do, try to allow this story to progress as organically as the sea story...
Store wishes and truths in jars, between the jams and the tea, for those worst of days...
As I have already said this is a story of lace, loss and love. I want to have something frail and delicate about it. Something not quite tangible.
I collected two huge jars of dandelion seeds back at the start of the summer, I love how light they are, like lace...
The French use dandelion flowers much the same way we use buttercups, holding them to your chin and judging your future by the glow. The Americans use the seed heads to wish, the English as clocks, the number of puffs of breaths it takes to clear the seeds being the time, and here there is a tradition of asking a question and 3 or less puffs means yes, more means no.
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