One of the modern markers of spring, most anywhere, is the appearance of waves and waves of flowers at one’s local garden center. They are breath-taking, and they stir in me a yen to get outside and dig. One clear bright morning this week, after a soaking rain, I stopped into my local store just to whet my appetite – I couldn’t help myself – and was handsomely rewarded. Dazzling pinks, luscious oranges, creamy whites, sunny yellows, all fresh and dewy in that morning light.
Before I knew it, out came the camera and I was happily snapping away. Something felt odd, though, and I glanced around me. Sure enough, a worker was keeping an eye on me. I wasn’t ready to stop shooting, but now I became furtive. I placed a few flats of annuals in my shopping cart and waited for him to move out of sight before continuing. Eventually I paid for my selections and left. I was happy with my photographic harvest that day, but it felt a bit like plunder. For the life of me, I can’t work out why that is. Is it stealing if the victim lost nothing?