There are stories, and then there are stories. Some have words, some don’t. Hands tell fascinating stories without any words, at least in my opinion. While I was intently photographing eggplants at the market yesterday, this farmer struck up a conversation with me. Her words, echoing her gentle yet knowledgeable voice, danced in the wind bustling around my ears, but the most amazing story came from her hands…slightly weathered with a light dusting of earth. From the way she handled the eggplants with natural confidence to the way she peeled back the leaves to reveal a perfect white star against the brilliant purple skin, I sensed years of being grounded in the earth and a deep cognitive relationship with vegetative plant life. Her wealth of knowledge, it seemed, came from years of experience.
At once I was struck by her raw beauty and glistening eyes as she shared a knowledge so ingrained and so natural that it rang sweetly in the cool crisp air. I remember each word she related on how to prepare these sweet lovely Japanese eggplants…but even moreso, I shall remember her hands, and the richness of the story they told me, even without the words.