When I was a young girl, I was obsessed with a box of Morton Salt. “WHEN IT RAINS IT POURS” was its message, as the yellow-frocked gal, sheltered by her umbrella, sloshed gayly through the puddles, while a steady stream of salt poured from the box she carried.
It was eye-catching and – to this day – iconic. But my fascination was not about the clever packaging, or the quality of the salt, or even the fun that I might have had, myself, sloshing through the rain. My fascination was about infinity, though as a 5-year-old, I could not have used that word to explain it.
I stared at that saltbox for hours, and at the girl with her box of salt; a box that, presumably, also bore the likeness of the girl with a box of salt, and that box of salt also had picture of the same girl, with another box of pouring salt. And on and on it would go, at least in my young, confounded mind.
When would it stop? When had it begun? Was I part of an intermediate universe as I held that box of salt in my hand? How many universes could there be? Was there another “me” somewhere in the unending progressions of saltboxes? It was confounding, mind-expanding, amazing and awe-inspiring.
Today I ‘m reminded that Blake considered “…a world in a grain of sand…”, and of my younger self, considering a multiverse on a box of salt; as I snap this featured photo of a lovely pair of finches, ignorant of blurred surroundings and the bigger picture, seeking simple seeds of sustenance, beneath the protective dome of an expansive universe.
Photo Friday: This week’s Challenge: Bokeh, Tagged with #bokeh
“The visual quality of the out-of-focus areas of a photographic image, especially as rendered by a particular lens.”