It’s cold here in Buffalo, but for some reason my roses are still budding. This is the 3rd or 4th time they’ve bloomed this season. Surely if I’d actually take care of them they’d never bloom again. Best not touch.

I noticed an orange rose on the side of the house last week. My mom and sister have been known to dry flowers, letting them hang upside down for weeks, or bathing them in silica gel. I, however, chose to freeze this one. I snipped it, filled a glass and stuck it in the freezer. My intention was to photograph the rose trapped in ice. As it went, I took the glass out of the freezer and forgot about it until the next morning. Those following along will be quick to notice that the ice melted, leaving but an orange rose head floating in water.

While the rose held it’s color when frozen, the night of thawing literally seemed to drain the color out of it. On the bottom of the glass was rust colored organic that I can only assume to have been the orange pigment. Kind of like a black & tan with a rose in it.

The photo below should probably represent two missed opportunities. First being the rose encased in ice. Second was this whole color draining phenomena. And so, I leave you with nothing but a rotting flower in a glass of water:

Back in late-July I spent an evening photographing (chasing) two eager kids. I’ve a couple favorites from the day, but this one stands out in my mind. Not only does it remind me of myself when I was younger – blonde hair, chubby cheeks – but I also love it because it represents something that I might not technically call a great photo.

The colors, the warmth, the gaze in his eyes… they all come together and evoke an emotion for me that I’m sure nobody else shares. My connection with this photo is two-fold. It comes from my own personal experience of being that boy, and taking his picture some 20 years later.