Backyard blooms / by Christina Rosalie

Bean & I trapse around our tiny backyard in the city, where spring is bursting, full force. Everywhere, insects, sunlight, color. Furry yellow dandilions in dappled shade. Mud in crumbled earthworm trails. Fragrant, sweet tasting violets by the downturned wheel barrow. I watch as he plays. Sticks, mud, rainwater in flower pots. He's occupied for an hour. My notebook pages fill with inked lines and words. My shoulders soak up sun. I adjust aperture and look through the lens at his mud flecked grin, at the pale spider in the bowl of the dandilion bloom, at the swelling chive buds, veined with purple. Click. A smatering of perfect moments.

(A real post, ripe with updates, to follow. Pinky Swear.)