…of what holds together. Is it the same fibre that pulls apart? Or, more to the point, does what pulls alter the way things are held together?

I’ve been taking photos of all of the flowers in the yard as they open and face the spring, the day, the world, and sometimes each other, and I’m struck by how the knotted heads hold to each other, continually lean in to each other; the community of buds in the way they bend out from themselves.

My favourite flowers are those that blossom in the soft shade of sky on a crisp day, or the shade of morning sky’s light in an early summer heat so quick to begin the crawl out of the ground. Flax, on the other hand, seems to have it all together, moves through fields with fluidity and grace of water, reflects not only its own imaginative features, but the face of the sky.