I’ve got about an hour to spare before I have to go to work.

I head out into the garden. It’s not actually raining, just a cool, damp, fresh, gorgeous morning, when the earth feels softly alive.

I want to take some photos of a daisy in the garden. I read this beautiful idea about taking 100 photographs of the same object, and I knew instantly what the subject should be, some daisies in the garden that I photographed and wrote about last year.

I’m fascinated by the way they open and close, open and close, with the light, with the sun, with the closing of the day.

The instruction to take 100 photographs is a beautifully freeing invitation: I stop thinking about getting the photo ‘right’ and just take picture after picture, different angles, a different distance from the flower, backwards, sideways, upside down.

The flower becomes more and more gorgeous with every shot. I feel closer and closer to the flower as I take these photographs, as I watch, as I notice, as I appreciate, and murmur ‘oh, but you’re gorgeous’. (Once again I am reminded just how much the flowers love to have their photographs taken.)

I’m close to the earth, feel its dampness. I’m close to to the flowers, talking to the daisies, watching, noticing the pattern, feeling the colour, just watching, communicating, not thinking, just getting closer and closer, watching and connecting, closer and closer, closer, ever closer to the earth, to the flowers.

Later I think to myself: this is why I take photographs.

I do not really wish to ‘be’ a photographer. I do not have such an interest in the photos once they’re taken, beyond the desire to tell a story, to paint a picture, to share the tale of how gorgeous the flowers are, how beautiful the earth.

No, it’s really just this chance to fall into all time in that stolen hour before work.

To lose myself in the taking, in the connection with the flowers, to know that this is a moment that will stay with you, that becomes part of you, part of your own internal canvas – close your eyes and you’re there, take a breath and you’re there, just watching, and connecting, closer and closer, closer, ever closer to the earth, to the flowers.

The idea to take 100 photographs was found in The Creative Photographer, by Catherine Anderson.