Home As Egg

Yesterday I resurrected my old interests in the Universal Egg with a posting of photos and considerations of my home as a metaphoric egg.

Today, freshly returned from a cardio stress test, I fell into a fried-egg sandwich for a break-fast lunch, tempting the fates and sating a long neglected appetite  (It's been at least a year between fried-egg sandwiches).

Eggs are moving again here at home.

Next, I popped into Facebook and found that my friend Deborah, a movement teacher who "lives, breathes, eats, and travels to work in the area of somatic education", had posted a most interesting reference book: the wonderfully illustrated Anatomy of the Human Body.

Figure 3. 

The Human Ovum

Henry Gray (1825–1861).  Anatomy of the Human Body.  1918.

My first, random click into the illustrations showed me nothing other than the egg again, the human ovum above. There I am, that's me (or you!) swimming in albumen inside the original little house. Ha! A perfectly rendered, instructively simple lesson for we Home As Egg metaphorists.

I've got to love This Egg. It's a symbol of containment with a promise. Its re-appearance provides another sampling of Jungian Synchronicities. Time to reassess my current metaphoric Eggdom. Time to re-evaluate everything.

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Crack in the Egg

Several years ago I worked on a series of photo collages as explorations united by a common theme: the Universal Egg. I was searching for the crack in the egg.

Dream Maker One

The ancient Upanishads refer to the Universal Egg as "the Soul of the Universe", or "the Golden Womb" and "Brahman". My interest lies in the essence of the thing.

Today I'm curious about Home as a metaphoric womb, especially as it relates to personal creativity.

The Entry Way

Earthy Mexican tiles, red door, aqua-green walls, brown door mat, doorstep and leaves; all elements at the entry to the egg of my home. Here is where I begin to feel colors pressing into my mood and my step. It is a measure of our attachment, the house and me.

On most days I carry a little Kodak digital camera with me with the intent to document those scenes that bring me various pleasures. I find many of those scenes right around the place I call home.

Saint Asparagus

When I do comply with the urge to compose, I pull out my little Kodak and together we discover and reflect on what we really appreciate around home. 

Unlikely Couple

You are your things, they say. Whatever could they mean? 

I puzzled on that one until I decided to photo record those things of mine that brought delight.  I decided to record them WHEN that delight was burning most strongly within. Praises to the easy Kodak.

Florida Q-Tips

Things from my table-top-studio suggesting I am my Q-Tips, I am my things. 

Table Top Home Studio

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Kitchen Art

Sometimes I just have to stop what I'm doing, pull my little Kodak out of my pocket, and make a picture of what I see. Many of these photo stoppages occur in view of very ordinary scenes, for which I am most grateful. Beautiful sights abound in the kitchen.

Vegetarians close your eyes.

As a photographer one learns to compose a subject within the photo frame. One learns that a Formal composition reveals "the whole" subject while Informal compositions keep some subject matter outside the frame.

My interests range from Formal to Informal to Beyond Formalities of the lens. For example, a Beyond Formality composition might include reasons the photographer made the picture, or the forces that brought the photo subject within range of the camera. These forces are often emotionally-loaded and usually remain the sole property of the picture-maker. 

Vegetarians may open their eyes now.

I'm not certain about the appeal of this kitchen scene. It may simply relate to an inborn voyeurism. I call this a Formal-Familiar Composition; it's all in the bag. And I find the cohabitation of Jalapeno and Red Onion most attractive and suggestive of taste treats to come. Hence, the image reaches Beyond the photo frame, within the realm of my senses.

For eyes that hear and see and smell and taste.

Informal and Beyond portraiture it is: onions and peppers in olive oil beseeching the camera to arrest this stove-top process. What the scene does not show is the trail that led the camera to it; the intense promise of the delicious. 

Please humor me: I cannot promise to refrain from posting more food photos in the future.

Chow!

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Backyard Summer Pix

This Florida summer has been hotter and moister than usual. Not a cool, northern kind of summer here; consequently, the back yard needs attention badly.

Earlier in the summer, an umbrella was installed next to the frog pond in the hopes of slowing algae growth. A few baby gold fish and a bottom feeder were added to the pond.

The weeds surrounding the pond have not been harvested yet. Foot stones and flagstones around the pool have not yet been replaced. Much work to do ... when it gets cooler.

Yet, this back yard summer has been good to us. I didn't have to single-handedly rebuild the ancient wooden fence; my neighbor built a better one! Wow! And the new fence changed our back yard aesthetics. 

Bear witness to modest industry, please: one of many concrete "weed barriers"  removed from beneath the old fence. The old fence wood was recycled and given a new home. 

Piles of concrete currently awaiting recycling decisions.

This concrete cairn commemorates the old, 1957, wooden fence. A few weeds await their final resting place while the Beach Sunflowers enjoy the return of summer rains. 

Not everything is perfection here. Yet the spotted grapefruit tree provides a camouflage canopy for aluminum ladders. And the birds are singing daily.

A few old grapefruits were recently found, like Easter eggs, hiding in recycling piles. Hummm, you noticed too: lots of piles around here.

Now, with the umbrella's shade, the hungry fish, and hurricane season winds, the water is cooling and clearing. 

Soon the Tennessee Sandstone will be relaid and paths renewed.

And life will be perfect again.

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My Backyard Stent

Tomorrow morning I'm going to the hospital to receive a stent in my left leg. Chances are someday I'll get one or more stents for my heart, as well.

I knew I could get bummed out about the future, if I weren't careful.

But this morning was beautiful. It was drizzling rain this morning. The clouds softened the light and the Mexican Petunias seemed to be begging for kisses.

I decided to make my own stent into the back yard.

 

I've been admiring this tough little Periwinkle all summer. 

It's been living in a sawed-off pipe next to the swimming pool.

Need I say it's a survivor?

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