Growing up on a Door County farm, I wasn’t exposed to a lot of art. And to tell the truth, besides books, pop music, TV and cinema, I don’t think I actually cared. One year, during my adult life, I had resolved, because I knew it would be out of my comfort zone, to visit art museums and Galleries.
What I had learned, like many an Edgar Allan Poe tale, is that visual art is symbolism. Much of it is anyways. And like a great piece of symbolism in literature, it can be stimulating to learn the root, or maybe the subconscious utterances, that brought about the piece one is observing. Then I learned of a series of lectures on photography. I was stunned to find out how interesting and understandable composition was. After that, I began using my new found skills on everything I saw.
This photo was taken while slightly straying from High Cliff State Park’s Red Bird trail. As I ventured the bluffs, searching for a memorable pic, this bright flower protested the sun’s descent. When I look at this photo, I remember taking it.
It seemed as if that day, like the flower itself, rose above the daunting perils of life. Though the cliff isn’t enormous, it’s fun to walk the limestone ridge and appreciate God’s own artistry.
Chris Writing Anything 
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