Life happens. We wake up in the morning with the promise and potential of a new day. What we're not privy to are the outcomes of that day.

Being a city girl, I had never climbed aboard a lawn mower. That changed 9 years ago when I moved to the country. You have to ride a mower if you're going to be a country girl, and for me, mowing became a joyous task. I got to view and appreciate the garden and land from a prominent vantage point. With birds flying all around me, I was transported to some euphoric Ponderosa/Green Acres state of mind.

Not withstanding the sheer enjoyment of the task, the rolling hills had always intimidated me. Well, my fears became reality as the brake spring snapped on one of my “I can do this hill” adventures, sending me and the mower tumbling.

I've always speculated on or about the possibility of angels or other mysterious forces, and I now know that something or someone was paying attention. I escaped with only a bad knee, a ripped meniscus. While this isn't anything you would choose in life, it could have been much worse. I am now required to inhabit a chair and to stay put. Trying to avoid surgery, I am heeding the warnings.

As part of the research for my new book, I've been reading John Kabat-Zinn's enlightening book, “Wherever You Go - There You Are.” This accident seemed an appropriate occasion to work on internalizing his philosophy of living in the moment while appreciating the fullness of possibilities. Remembering my own words, “the best picture is where you are,” I set out on a personal mission to photograph regardless of my knee.

Mobility challenged, I plunked myself on a chair in the garden. It wasn't long before the show began, and the gifts started pouring in. With blue jays, cardinals, sparrows, goldfinch, and woodpeckers, I became part of an audience witnessing intoxicated bees, baby crab spiders, grasshoppers, sphinx moths, a box turtle, mating cecropia moths. The spectacle would rival any Las Vegas production. It made my head spin-it was all so glorious!

Hens & chicks in old boots and shoes now seemed to resonate with memories from the deepest of places. I observed petals unfurling, sunflowers and cosmos in rapturous dance, lilies in conversation.

Moving my chair, I photographed phlox by the fence, nasturtium in iron embroidery, wild rose behind a dewy window. Even the chocolate sunflowers, way past their peak, became fascinating-backlit, reflecting the purples and plums behind them.

There were times in my chair when I closed my eyes and just pulled it all in. I let go of what had happened and didn't worry about a future that hadn't yet arrived. I touched the fullness of the moment and was able to inhale the preciousness of not only living on this land, but of living in it-of being fully awake and very much alive.

I could have chosen to go to bed in a shrouded veil of depression or opted to photograph next month-next year. I could have not appreciated the potential of my glorious space at this one moment in time. There was a choice, and I went out to photograph-that day-that “right now.”


The challenge in life is to work and to be present in the circumstance and space that you find yourself. Take a minute and just be where you are. Don't ever take that for granted-Remember that if your eyes are always on the path, you won't know that you're traveling through gardens.

Click here to see the "View From My Chair" image gallery.