A Beautiful Weed

She spotted it from across the driveway.

She has been waiting for one, searching, for days.

And this one was right there.

It was perfect.

Full. Round. Fluffy.

At its peak.

And, for a dandelion, peak means ready for a four year old.

I think she knows it’s a weed.

That it’s something most people don’t want, or value.

But that didn’t make it any less beautiful to her.

As an artist, I know that beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

That an object’s definition—its worth—derives from the people who appreciate it.

When I started taking pictures, almost four years ago, I wanted to preserve, to document, to share the beauty in my life.

I had written for years, woven my story with words, in hopes that, through the story-telling process, my narrative would endure in the present tense.

But it wasn’t the same.

It wasn’t enough.

I needed more.

I needed to show the dandelions of my life.

Because dandelions are actually really beautiful, if you just slow down long enough to really see them.