Bruised: macro photography after the storm

I listened to thunder echo through the valley all night while shards of light shot through the sky. My room bursting out of the darkness. The lace curtain that was my sister's scarf backlit by what nature can do, making things bright when they should be dark. Rain in sheets pouring on the tin roof, drowning out any sense of the world.

I wondered if my little worn down cottage would hold up under the barrage. In the morning the garden was torn. Spring flowers stripped from trees. These the only ones still holding on, battered and bruised, but still there. Weathering the storm. Beauty held in their will to live, huddled together among the ruins.

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