Still Purple, Even Without Words
by Mike
My job was to prune every grape vine on the farm in Coaraze. Having all this time doing a task I understood pretty well, I decided to try something I called a “working meditation,” an effort at intense awareness while still doing my job.
I discovered that words are the vessels that allow my mind to wander. I kept having to remind myself, “No words,” and I’d be brought back to the vineyard from wherever I’d been thinking about.
These are pictures of grapes that didn’t get harvested last October. They were scattered at the feet of some vines.
Tags: frost, grapes, photo essay, vineyard
Posted in Cote d'Azur and Europe and France and Photography and The Olive Farm and Travel
at 1:46 am.
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You are still a Husky, even without words.