The world is such an interesting place when you’re able to capture things that aren’t actually there. The world was an interesting place last weekend—partly because I’d captured something that wasn’t actually there, but mostly because of fantastic company. Tara and Bill made a grand entrance on Thursday night, and Chicago, seemingly aware of their arrival, turned on all of its lights. Yvonne made it into the city on Sunday, and so the city was on its best behavior; Yvonne was born here, however, and so she already knew the other Chicago: the city with big shoulders and a surly attitude. She grew up in an area I’m vaguely aware of. You have to pass a vertical lift railroad bridge in order to get to it. Well, there are other ways into the area, but if you have a camera, go by the vertical lift bridge: there aren’t many of those things in these parts and so it pays to see at least one of them. Ah, but this isn’t about a vertical lift railroad bridge…that’s actually a part of Chicago. This is about things that aren’t there: specifically, eye-searing, blue flowers. I rather like blue blossoms. There aren’t many. Nature, I assume, finds blue to be a distinctly non-floral color…at least in the Midwestern USA. I don’t know about flowers in places like Denmark, the UK, or even Seattle, but I suspect that blue (of the floral variety) might be a bit difficult to come by. I could be wrong, however, since floral stuff isn’t my strong point. On the day I snapped this photo, Corey and I were wandering with Tara and Bill through the nice, temperate ambiance of Millennium Park; we’d all seen da Bean on numerous occasions, but on one particular Saturday, we not only saw da Bean, but a bit of its intimate anatomy, known simply as, the omphalos. The navel. Of course in Chicago speak, it would probably be called da omphalose…Chicagoans love to be different. The omphalos gives the bean a nice Escher-like quality. It distorts and refracts, making Chicago into something else…an oddly recursive, multidimensional place ruled by at least 4 different gravitational sources (visually, at least.) Needless to say, after capturing numerous shots of da Bean and its multi-dimensional navel, we felt the need for coffee…or at least the chance to sit around a table and talk, laugh, talk some more, and sip nicely caffeinated warm stuff. Tara spotted a place on Michigan Avenue, and as I was in the midst of a cigarette, I entered shortly after everyone else did. Because of that delay, I saw floral things in a planter. For an instant, I saw a flash of blue—it was, however, non-floral blue. My artist’s eye had other ideas, as an artist’s eye might, and so I imagined that there were actually blue flowers, and not the wonder of a misplaced shopping bag, carried by a breeze. I snapped countless photos of flower-things in a planter. I spent the weekend, plus a couple of days, at Corey’s place, and on the day that Bill and Tara left Chicago, for destinations more remote (at least by Chicago standards) I went through the massive load of photos I’d taken in their company. Chicago is a wondrous city when seen with non-local company: especially non-local company generous with laughter. My artist’s eye re-emerged when I saw this particular shot, and thanks to The Gimp, I was able to shift this photo into what I imagined seeing, moments before taking it. This is the end result, and I must say that I’m rather pleased with it, though I suspect my sense of pleasure comes more from the company I enjoyed for the duration of one particular weekend. As always, thank you for viewing, reading, and commenting, and I hope you’re all having a great week.