meditations on light

it’s christmas morning. there’s a tray of freshly risen croissants baking in the oven, nic’s mum is out for a walk and i’m vacuaming white kanuka blossoms off the floor. all to no avail as fresh dustings of blossom snow on the floor with each puff of wind through the open door.

i light white sage and blow gently on it, coaxing it to life then smudge our living spaces. the diffuser quietly breathing pine-scented mist into the morning stillness. sunlight is streaming through every window and door, a moving kaleidoscope through the house as the minutes pass by.

there are no rituals or rhythm to this day other than the ones we choose in each moment. percolating remembrances of nic’s father, recently gone and my grandmother, many years past. meditating on the quiet, the prosecco, the candles burning gently on the food-laden breakfast table.

sitting in the warmth of the mid-morning light we hear the first cicada. a sure sound that summer is here, even as the ground is heavy with rain from the previous 24 hours.

the light catches a jar of lilies on top of the fireplace – a gift from nic’s mum. i pause to make an image with the polaroid.

i think about plastic. and film. and how i love the process of making film images… but plastic has a bad rap and it adds to my reluctance to contribute to the problem any more than i need to. the dichotomy of pleasure making polaroid photos vs. the suffering of the planet weighs on my mind.

so i only make one, satisfied with my decision and in love with the light that greets me right now.