Mary’s children managed this year’s Open Garden at her home.
She sat under the fig tree, planted by her great-grandfather 130 years before. An uninterrupted voyeur’s view of the visitors that day.
One young man piqued her curiosity as he wandered about. Camera around his neck, every so often his focus would be held by some imaginary force. He’d click once and move on.
Mary received 6 black and white photos, but no return address.
“I thought I knew my garden.” she mused. “How is it I’ve never seen these things?”
She sat weeping at the powerful images.
She sat under the fig tree, planted by her great-grandfather 130 years before. An uninterrupted voyeur’s view of the visitors that day.
One young man piqued her curiosity as he wandered about. Camera around his neck, every so often his focus would be held by some imaginary force. He’d click once and move on.
Mary received 6 black and white photos, but no return address.
“I thought I knew my garden.” she mused. “How is it I’ve never seen these things?”
She sat weeping at the powerful images.
