I think sometimes we fail to see the infinite possibilities for stories around us, and focus on the great and the majestic for inspiration; larger than life characters and famous stunning scenery. My grandparents’ back garden used to be pretty and tidy, with clipped hedges and a little river running down the back, a perfect bower of camellias and well-kept flowerbeds. However, between the house being flooded earlier this year and no one living in it for a few months (leaving the garden untended), and the back garden being turned into a builder’s yard while the house was being repaired, nature began to claw it’s way out of the neat boundaries and has reclaimed the garden for itself. The camellia is still flowering though, even though it’s roots are covered in old window frames and planks of wood. It’s broken away from its bower and no longer follows the arch shape it used to, instead reaching up over my granda’s workshop.
I just thought it looked interesting, and that its story was worth noting. I’m going to post another one tomorrow; of the same bush but more surreal and collage-like.