On a crisp autumn morning the first virgin snow fell gently. I hastily grabbed my camera and dashed wildly out the door. I longed to capture the precious time sensitive moment. One single precious moment in time can be captured to last forever with photography.
In a single photograph, I transported the feelings of the delicate morning. All was soft, quiet, and crisp. White, pure, new snow intermingled with still green leaves define the backdrop true to the day it was captured. These colors of bright white and patches of dark green are blurred; you could easily not know what they are. In the forefront of the background, just peaking down from the top edge of the photo, are two more defined, yet still blurred shadowy green leaves. The stillness is strikingly present.
From the bottom of the photograph two brown and green stems protrude two-thirds of the way towards the top. These stems are solid, stoic, and seemingly ever present against the white backdrop. Jabbing, daunting thorns adorn the stems and seclude themselves within the drapes of leaves, waiting to pounce upon the unexpecting admirer. Dark green, glossy smooth, wide leaves envelope areas of the stems with dramatic importance. These leaves stand at attention, full of life and not yet ready to release the summer. Yet, snow drapes and clumps upon a central tangle of leaves.
Significantly more prestigious, atop the stems are the truly divine buds of glorious roses. The right bud is solidly closed, keeping comfort from the snow, and thus, keeping the stamen, stigma, and style secure within the confines of the petals. The left bud is ever so gently open towards heaven with only the slightest of distance between the petals. The powdery, white, and crisp snow takes haven atop those mighty petals as if a great weight upon the delicate, buttery soft petals. The petals of these roses are blushed with deep red on the exteriors fading to a soft peachy glow on the interiors of the petals; the contrast is stunning. The edges of the petals curl only slightly inward, as if in silent, unhurried, calm preparation for winter. Tiny, chilly ice crystals sparkle, and adorn the buds like extravagant diamonds. These buds sit perched upon the crown of five pointy, barely green sepals.
A snug grouping of three additional stems hug together as if to cling to the warmth of autumn and fight the contemplation of the oncoming blustery winter. They protrude into the photo from the bottom and angle slightly to the left. Holding loosely to these stems, dipping slightly and extending out of sight to the left are groups of leaves. Leaves of tender medium green are dusted slightly with powdery snowflakes. These mighty stems extend only to a third of the photo. These strict, dark brown stems, lacking any of the green of the others, have a characteristic that I did not notice when I meticulously closed the shutter for the photo. Concentrating so intently on the new snow laden atop the bud, I had not noticed the hacked off stems. Recently cut stems bore fresh open wounds of tender flesh. A triad of stems had lost their heavenly buds to a thief of the morning.
My coveted tool, my camera, is securely wrapped within the cushioned black bag and perched upon the seat next to me; I make my way to the warmth of my home smug with the knowledge that I have captured the transitioning seasons. I have seized this special moment in exactly the way my mind had imagined. As the photograph intermingles bright fresh snowflakes with the still alive summer flower buds, green leaves, and autumn hued sepals, it encompasses the sensation produced by a moment that converts the season. The evidence of one moment is portrayed for eternity.