Ephemeral …

It’s always interesting to me how even one word sparks an array of thoughts – both on the surface and on a deeper level. This time, the word was “ephemeral.” I had shared the above image on social media, and one comment was, “A stunningly soft and ephemeral piece. Love it.” That got me thinking.

I’ve most often heard that word in reference to the arrival of certain “spring ephemerals.” These include flowers such as tulips, daffodils, crocuses, hyacinths and the like. In the woodlands, you might think of yellow trout lilies, Virginia bluebells, Jack in the Pulpit, trilliums, to name just a few. What they are really depends on where you are. In case you’re not clear on what they are, “ephemeral plants are ones with a very short life cycle or very short period of active growth, and often one that grows during periods when conditions are favorable.” Besides the above mentioned, my mind also went to mushrooms. They, too, appear suddenly, when conditions are just right, and they quickly disappear when the humidity changes.

Tulips everywhere in spring as part of the “ephemeral march.”

White trilliums from the woodlands.

I felt the need to explore the meaning and idea of “ephemeral” more deeply, and perhaps metaphorically. I realized that we, meaning you and me, are also ephemeral in a bigger-picture view. I learned or clarified that the concept of ephemeral, in short, means that nothing lasts forever. The word itself refers to things lasting only for a short time. Other words that align with this idea include: brief, momentary, transient and fleeting. One of the words that sounds most poetic to me is evanescent (soon passing out of sight, memory or existence).

Nature is ephemeral in all ways. Our lives are ephemeral. There are cycles within each day, each year, each season and every lifetime. Nothing lasts, and everything is in motion and in transition. Depending on the season, the emotions attached to those changes are subject to change. Winter spurs a mood that is sometimes somber. The emerging spring flowers uplift our spirits with renewed hope. The warm, vibrant tones of the fall season allow us to celebrate what French philosopher & author Albert Camus referred to as the second spring, “when every leaf is a flower.”

Leaf “petals” along a West Virginia stream.

Winter murmurations of the Red-winged blackbirds.

SUNFLOWERS PAST AND PRESENT

These ideas got me thinking about how every image we make is a moment that will never happen again in the same way, even if we revisit the same places over and over. As I write this blog, I am looking at a beautiful vase of sunflowers that remind me of one of my favorite artists, Vincent Van Gogh. His paintings expressed the wide and varied emotions he felt as he put paint to canvas in beautiful ways. Though he and his sunflowers are long gone, the inspiration from them continues. Beauty is found in many different subjects – frozen in time through our art, our attention to the moments and to the details – shared for others to recognize and appreciate. It reminds us in different ways of the transient moments of our own lives.

Sunflowers still life reminiscent of Van Gogh

BEAUTY IN THE ORDINARY

The older I get, the more I see beauty in simple, ordinary things – both in nature and in things of old – that bring me back in time. Reminiscing and expressing my connections and appreciation through my images requires focus, attention, a level of stillness (physical, mental and emotional), and mindful intention. Some times are easier than others to be fully engaged. As much as I’d like to say that I’m not subject to “mind clutter,” I am. Knowing that I need to tune in, and the value of doing that, doesn’t make it any easier for me. As we all do, I give my best efforts to connect.

Something as simple as a set of blocks or printer press letters or marbles remind me of my childhood and time spent on the floor of my grandparents’ home. Exploring vintage and antique stores filled with old typewriters, jars of buttons, wooden spools of thread and old bottles (especially milk bottles) brings me back in time. I have a greater appreciation for the ordinary objects that are just that – ordinary, until one connects with a memory.

Remembering childhood fun with blocks and making words.

Seem to recall a typewriter like this in our home many moons ago.

I grew up on Long Island near enough to the Great South Bay that a bike ride would get me to the shoreline and the docks. The salt air, soft breezes and sounds of sea birds and water lapping rhythmically filled the space with a sense of peace. Memories of finding a quiet space on the docks to sit and lean, close my eyes and feel the warm sun on my face still remain even after over forty years. And while I’m no longer a bicycle ride away, those short-lived moments of my youth come back often. I love to photograph and explore small fishing villages that have not been taken over by “progress.” They remind me of those dockside moments.

The wooden fishing boats, nets and crab pots used for work and to support livelihoods take me back to my youth on the docks and draw me in. Beyond the colors, textures and patterns, photographing them feels like a way to honor the watermen by remembering the tools of their trade. The wabi sabi nature of the boats is beautiful to me and sometimes sad as I know the struggles and hardships of the life on the water.  The conversations I have had with the fishermen confirm the challenges and the fleeting nature of work on the water. They compel me to record and reflect. The moments and memories meet briefly in what now seems like a far simpler time and way of life, even if it wasn’t easy.

Each time I photograph scenes like these, I wonder if they will be there when I return.

Recording a way of life in a changing harbor where few of these scenes remain.

AUTUMN EPHEMERALS

In this season of change in temperatures and color, perhaps we might find a moment or two to simply be present, to notice the beauty around us and to reflect. So, in this time, I watch as the leaves change from green to yellow and orange and red to brown. I watch as the leaves break loose and fall to the ground creating a layer of cover for the winter months. I watch and witness the garden blooms lose their colors and offer up still beautiful skeletal remains in their transition. I watch as the season reveals the bare bones of trees and browning of bushes and grasses that usher in a new season. I watch as the migrating birds make their way south for warmer temperatures. I know that this season and the ones to come are transient, fleeting, short lived in the scheme of things. Perhaps, you do as well.

Of All the seasons, autumn offers the most to man and requires the least of him.

— Hal Borland

Marking time and waiting to drop.

Nature’s cycles move with changing hues and light.

The “dried autumn” image that began the ephemeral exploration.

FINAL THOUGHTS

Everything changes. Nothing lasts forever. We are all ephemerals. Yet, the opportunity to be engaged, with or without a camera or paintbrush or crayon, is ever present. I need to remind myself not to miss out. I need to remember that “I’m too busy” is not an acceptable excuse. Life really is too short, even if we were to live to be a hundred. We, along with nature and all the world, are continually moving toward a finish line. Let us not miss the moments. Let us see the beauty, appreciate the ordinary and the “little things.” Let us share them through the words we speak and the conversations we have with others. Let us share the moments through our art and our time in nature. Let us find the good, the best, in the evanescent.

This is a personal reminder to myself. May you find a bit of wisdom as well.

As ephemeral as our footprints were in the sand along the river, so also were those moments of childhood caught in the photographs.

— Sally Mann

Footprints on the shoreline until the next tide.

A beautiful childhood memory caught in a photograph.