I remember the day I took this. Years ago, I decided to play around with my dad’s “new” camera. He probably bought it a bit ago, but I didn’t really care for it until then. Picked it up and decided to just shoot things. Adjusting the different settings not knowing really what it’ll do.
These flowers used to pop up out of nowhere. Maybe my mom planted bulbs, but it’s never really a planned thing–just when she felt like planting and wherever there was space.
And then I realized how really different photography can make things seem. I saw these everyday, passed by them and never took a long enough time to really see them. Until I had this photograph here, and it’s like I have to. I want to. They’ve become a part of me. The angle I took it from, the kind of day it was. All the background story and perspective on my end with memories of my mom or how as a child I’d water so many of them in her garden because she loved them so much. She inadvertently created this wanderer in me who became a lover of nature and spending long periods of time just being in it. Even if it’s quiet or being alone or sometimes difficult because weather isn’t always cooperative, but we love it anyway.