This was not a great week. Physically or creatively. I found myself searching figuratively ever further afield and literally ever closer to home for inspiration for these daily heart images. I fell behind by a day. I almost gave up altogether. On Day 43 I attended an Earth Day gathering. This little girl was no less thrilled with the baby chickens than I, but she got the shot because she had hearts on her dress.
On Day 44 this view of the ceiling was not only the best I could do for a heart, it was what I was mostly looking at as I lay on the couch down with a headcold that was about to become the story of the rest of the week.
For Day 45 I didn't really do much at all, just took the easy way out and aimed my phone - from a reclining position - at the other occupant of the general household indolence.
On Day 47, a Sunday, I started falling behind, in more ways than one. This was another late posting, and was once again locally sourced - as in, across from the couch - in my bookcase. I am not a religious person, but I do love all the relics, rituals, edifices and artifacts of religion, including this strangely beautiful embroidered bookmark with the bleeding heart. I can relate.
Seeing this group of photos collected, I can see the proof of my sense of a week in which my world got smaller and smaller, and why it felt so strange after a week in which I felt so much more expansive than I have in a long time. Expand, contract, repeat. As the weekend faded and a new week full of unavoidable obligations began, my heart and body were still decidedly in weekend mode, and I paid dearly for every hour I spent functioning in the world outside with large chunks of recovery time at home. Yes, this Day 48 image was also taken on the couch. I'm sure it has some sort of deep symbolic meaning. Other than: I love my couch.
And for Day 49, yesterday, that couch makes another background appearance. This charm was given to me by my mother, who is not Irish, and probably didn't even know the relevance of the claddagh. It's a lovely symbol, nevertheless, the offered heart, crowned. A happy child, a light cast on shadow, an indolent cat, a new leaf, a bloody bookmark, pink lace, an old charm. This week's hearts have a story to tell, of a world compelled to shrink down to its bare essentials, and by doing so, finding out what they are.
And I still have the flu.