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Dr. Leda's Rose Journal |
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Hybrid Teas, Please Say Cheese!
June, 2003
By Dr. Leda Horticulture, O. R.
One day you're wondering what the heck a megapixel is, and a week later you're Ansel Adams...
I'd like to see a show of hands: How many of you are having wild, passionate affairs with your digital camera?
Raise your hand if you're hooked on the thrill of instantly publishing your garden pictures on the web so thousands of total strangers can admire your roses. Who has called in sick so you could spend the day uploading hundreds of rose pictures? How many of you have stayed up until 2 a.m., obsessively checking for feedback every three minutes in case another time zone has checked in with rave reviews of your latest closeups?
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| A hint of the yawning spaces Dr. Leda could fill in with roses if she'd get serious about it. |
If your hand never went up: well, how very nice for you. I'm sure you've found productive ways to spend your time. But to those of you whose arms are gyrating wildly over your heads like sea anemones doing the macarena in an undertow, I say: Hellloooo, fellow photo fiends! Wanna see my Carl Zeiss lens?
Digital cameras are bringing revolutionary changes to the world of photography. Without the expense of film and development, even novice photographers have the luxury of shooting a hundred pictures in an hour, then seeing (and, when warranted, deleting) the results immediately. This freedom to play and experiment and even publish without worrying about embarrassing, costly failures sharply accelerates the learning process. The ease of keeping photographic records of day-to-day life quickly trains the eye to see the world in new, more creative and imaginative ways.
What most intrigues me is how digital photography has affected the way I see my garden. Back when I used film, I rarely took pictures of the yard, other than as a backdrop for birthday parties. Now, hardly a week goes by that I don't photograph the garden. Obsessively taking and saving hundreds of photos has given me a keener perspective. My hard drive is exploding with visual records of how the garden is evolving, from month to month, season to season, and year to year.
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| A nice "serendipitously brilliant juxtaposition" in Dr. Leda's yard. |
This ongoing chronicle is useful. It reminds me which plants bloom simultaneously, and which are most ephemeral. When I peruse my pictures, I'm ruthlessly confronted with the seasonal gaps as well as the permanent yawning spaces of no interest that need to be filled: the bare dirt, the ugly fence, the scraggly lawn or boring hedge that are somehow too easily overlooked in person.
At the same time, I'm more likely to notice serendipitously brilliant juxtapositions, the successful vignettes I want to replicate in other parts of the garden. I can easily see which areas are too busy and cluttered, where the eye cries out for repetition or rest, when one color overpowers anrzother.
Above all, I'm forced to acknowledge the progress that so often seems painfully imperceptible. With a few clicks, I can display irrefutable evidence that the ugly fence did indeed gradually disappear beneath colorful mounds of voracious clematis and rambling roses. This visual proof of the "first year sleeps, second year creeps, third year leaps" axiom instills patience, optimism, and greater tolerance for delayed gratification: all essential qualities in a good gardener.
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| Dr. Leda's backyard — somewhere between a typical, realistic, everyday yard and a grand, unattainable estate. |
And of course, I don't just benefit from my own photographs. I spend hours at the computer poring over pictures of other people's gardens. I'm always curious about which roses, companion plants, and color combinations other gardeners have chosen. I want to know how they managed to hide their ugly fences. I adore these glimpses into typical, realistic, everyday yards much more than the grand, unattainable estates so often featured in coffee-table rose books. I'm constantly inspired by the creative ways ordinary people find to cultivate beauty and embellish their surroundings.
There are an infinite number of free web sites where photos can be published. Most beginners probably start with the big online albums, like fotki.com or shutterfly.com. Uploading is easy, and tons of pictures can be stored. Nobody knows your pictures are there, unless you tell them.
But as the budding garden photographer develops confidence, she may yearn for a larger, more rose-savvy audience. Her next stop should be the GardenWeb rose gallery. This is an enthusiastic, encouraging community of rose lovers who will oooh and ahhh over just about any rose shot, no matter how poorly lit or out of focus. It's a fun, safe playground for sharpening skills, experimenting with different settings on the camera, befriending role models, and picking up tips from more accomplished photographers (as well as rose growers).
The most useful rose database on the web has long been HelpMeFind.com, but it has recently improved exponentially, now that users are able to upload their own rose pictures. (You can see some of mine in my online garden.) Rose shoppers no longer have to rely on the deceptively airbrushed, touched-up, fantasy pictures in catalogs. At HelpMeFind, you can see how a rose really looks in real gardens, in all its climatic color variations. For example, there are currently 15 user-generated pictures of Just Joey and no two look quite alike.
Finally, photographers who are inspired to experiment with interesting angles, creative compositions, and unusual subjects will find their nirvana at Fotolog.net. Each user is allowed to upload a maximum of six photos a day. This is not a garden-oriented site, so pictures are critiqued and applauded for their artistic merit rather than horticultural interest.
I must confess, Fotolog is the most highly addictive web crack I've ever sampled. Ever since I discovered it, I've been obsessed. First I photographed every molecule in my garden. Then I went after the poor dogs. Next I started gallivanting through fields and forests, scouring the landscape for rustic fence posts and exotic wildflowers, tromping through rural underbrush like a city-slicker who's never heard of rattle snakes or poison ivy (not to mention Deliverance).
But in the end, I always bring my camera back to the garden. Where else can I find such a treasure chest of photo ops, such an ever-changing cornucopia of brilliant colors, rich textures, evocative shapes, and artsy lighting? I've concluded that digital photography and rose gardening are a match made in heaven, each pursuit enhancing the other as new levels of creativity, skill, and enjoyment are attained. The only thing missing is a fragrance feature...say, has anyone heard if they'll be adding it to next year's models?
Do you have favorite garden photos on the web? Send pointers
to 
Dr. Leda!
