When flawed is just perfect..

And  imperfect is exactly right. Yesterday was one of those delicious days when nothing much happened. I went about my work. Not too energetically. Alone on the farm again.  The quiet is getting quieter. The road is still blocked by construction from both directions, it has been like this all summer but they seem to have come to a pause too. All the animals are doing a lot of sleeping. I collected images as the day progressed and then after our evening skunk free dog walk,  I brought in the camera and had a look to see what we had for today.

Nothing seemed quite right. Again and again the image I decided to go with, the one that appealed the most, was not the  picture I have been taught was right.  It did not fit my equation of correctness. 

To show The Duke of Kupa’s disappearing tail as he goes through the moult, I had to choose between one that had his feathers in focus but no head and one that had the whole of his body but out of focus. The image needed to tell a story. The story of his feathers being abandoned without care all over the property. Me finding jewels scattered in the dirt. I had to have his head, even if it was out of focus. Otherwise it made no sense. So I chose imperfect and it was right.

I took a shot of Queenie Wineti, trying once again to get her incredibly long eyelashes. 

But the best one was the one that held a slightly soft tear in her gentle cows eye. The one in focus was clinical in comparison. It did not show the supreme gentleness of this stocky little cow. Her unassuming lack of acuteness.

I shot honey pictures one after the other but the one that stood out..  

.. was the one of the clean up guys, missed a spot, they are saying. The image is imperfect, the harvest table is worn and wonky, the focus is not on the rising bee, and I have not cleaned up well so the bees have taken over. Their diligence is demanding that we see that the honey is all about them. Not glass jars and shiny lids.  The haymakers field is growing back.  And this time it will be allowed to grow. No more mowing and baling. Peace reigns once more. I am a gardener of grass. Pasture is my most important crop.  We nurture the fields. Though once again this is a bracketed shot, a back up image that should not have been my first choice, but it says something. It is right.

I was talking to Senior Son last night about the book he was reading. I like it, he said, because every character is flawed.  That makes sense I thought because we are all flawed.  This is what makes us thoughtful. This is what makes us strive. As long as we embrace our flaws. Allow them. Work with them. People who cannot love their flaws are sad.

But then perfection appears, my pompous theories are thrust aside as nature gives us such balanced complete beauty that we have to stop. Forget the stories. Forget the work.  Forget focus. Give our tired feet a moments respite and just watch. The silence was uncanny last night.  The stillness as soft as the air.  I wondered if I was  going very deaf yesterday evening.  The farmy was all for the eyes. The sunset majestic.

Yes, sometimes perfect is absolutely right to the wonderfully flawed beings that we are. Because we deserve these simple complete moments.  Every single one of us deserves them. They are here for those who see. And if we do not get it wrong, how will we know when we get it right?

Though sometimes, a little bit wrong is perfect too.

Good morning. I hope you all have a lovely day. I will be on the farmy plodding along all day today, as usual.  I have a list that I will forget to look at!

celi

On this day a year ago. I showed you the most common spider in the garden. This year I have not seen a single one. They are nowhere to be found. Now Mandy and John. Do not open this link. You know how you hate spiders. You just pop over and talk to each other about peaches and marmalade.

c