I am besieged (there must be two, maybe three of you) by requests for photos while we’re here in France. It ain’t easy. I don’t shoot a lot, for one thing, and for two I’m a persnickety, meticulous, if not obsessive worker. So usually no photo appears [snap] just like that.
But this was easy. I shot a few shots just outside my door. No muss, no fuss.
These images are all, as the French say, "nature," which is not to say they’re something other than natural—I mean they’re photos of flowers for God’s sake—but they are unadulterated: unedited and unchanged, more or less direct from the memory card of my camera. This also means I am disinclined to respond to critiques from the photo-geeks and other geeks out there. These are not optimal photographically speaking… not ready for prime time. But they’re more than good enough.
You have to go to the bertha Web site to see the mini-portfolio:
I made it easy, on the home page, click on the link (the photo or the words) with the picture of the flower.
What you’ll see are common hollyhocks, which abound in the village in every imaginable hue, from deep purple (almost black) to white. The three specimens here are what, as I say, are 15 feet from our door. The other shots are of what we call oleander (which are even closer to the door, in huge pots), and what the French call (and I prefer) laurier rose. Either way, for you botanical and Latin freaks, that’s Nerium oleander. The hollyhocks are Alcea rosea. In the background of one of the oleander shots you can even see the white slatted bench made famous in my by now world-renowned obsequies for the former owner of our little house, M. Jean-Michel Braunstein < http://perdiem.bertha.com/2007/06/2007june13wedne.html >.
That’s it. No more for today. No. No questions. Please.by