Nenuphar

I treasure my visits to the English Gardens at Assiniboine Park.
From the moment I walk through the gate with trepidation and anticipation, until the very last second when I chance one last, longing look, I find myself in a trance-like state.
I am there but I am not, really.
The colours, the shapes, the movements hypnotize me, take me by the hand and lead me along the many paths. I don’t think; I think of nothing yet my senses are most alert, on edge. My eyes scan every inch, afraid to miss anything.
All this beauty invites, attracts, enthralls.
I look, recognize, compose, shoot, again and again. One last time is never the last time, never ending. It cannot be…
Bathing among the statues in their green, translucent liquid garden, the nenuphars  oscillate at the rhythm of the fountain. Their bright colours in stark contrast to the deep greens of the leaves–a frog’s hammock–and the reflections on the surface of the inky pond.
All drink in the sunlight.
Beautiful…

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