
I wondered if people would consider a uniquely colored peony worthy of a travel blog. But then, one person’s peony is another person’s mountain top. We (my husband and I) planned a few weeks in Michican’s Lake Whitmore to be with the grandkids… but we had time some days to do a little sightseeing. We discovered that peonies were on their way out of their short-lived bloom period, and we didn’t want to miss it. Off to the University of Michigan arboretum we went.
While there were literally dozens (who knew?) of peony varieties, I had to choose one that caught my eye. Isn’t that the way? Whenever you’re traveling, you have to make choices. Where do we go today? Where do we eat? Do we want to drive a lot or walk a lot?
Then, when you get there, do you just see stuff, or do you have to photograph every little thing? Are you really there when you’re snapping the photo, or are you saving the now for a future time when you can relive the experience you missed because you were taking the photo? It’s the perennial travel question. (Wait, are peonies perennials? Yes… actually, they are. Sorry about that.)
For me, a photograph does pull me from the moment, and it lets me save the moment, too. Sigh. Travel is about seeing yourself as much as it is about seeing the world. Isn’t that cool??
A note about timing while we’re here. If we’d been a few days later in our stay, we would have missed the bloom! In fact, we were told they were on their way down from the height of their beauty. A few of the petals had begun to fall, but many flowers still held that breathtaking “peony-ness.”) Travel timing is another whole post, but I couldn’t ignore the thought of it here.
So, let’s leave it at peonies and the perennial question of photography versus being in the moment.
Sigh.
I’m looking at one of the smaller frescos, and my husband and I are standing in front of an entire wall of one of the murals.
diaspora and contemporary issues of race, class, and popular cu
lture.”
Perhaps I’ve traveled too far. Perhaps not enough.
It’s a scary place to go–down there in the dark with no net of busyness to protect us from falling into the pool below, where feeling all the feels is worse than the bottom of a wishing well where we keep throwing pennies, hoping for whatever.
