Strawberrdies and Tadpoles

They called them strawberrdies. I still do. One of those words that will remain forever changed by their youthful dialect.

Aaron is growing the tomatoes, him my little salad lover. I attribute his love for healthy food and aversion to sugar to the fact that I made all his baby food from scratch. I didn’t make David’s baby food and he loves sweetness, thus the strawberrdy plants are his project.

I love how they see the world. Phenomena that I have forgotten to stop and experience, they inspect with all the wonder of first time travelers on this miraculous globe. They work hard to tie shoelaces but wonder comes easy to them. I pause with my lens pressed to my face and the moments break down, like pieces of an equation. Add budding plant to curious boy, carry the glowing light and it equals awestruck. It’s a pattern he says, those seeds all lined up neatly in their places. He is seeing them everywhere since he learned about patterns in his math lessons, God’s order on display, tucked away in the essence of every living thing. And the red surprises me. Pops out like it’s the meaning of life hanging right there on a tender stem. All that beauty  for one bite of sweetness. One bite in a long string of life giving back, good gifts springing up from the earth.

Then it’s on to the next miracle. Spring full to the brim with rebirth everywhere. Little boys gathered around tadpoles, changing every second, tails shrinking, legs just popping out. They thrill to the newness of it all. The crazy cycle ever changing and surprising, rooted deep enough in order to sooth our fearful souls and give us a place to call home. This earth full of seeds, and strawberrdies and tadpoles.

6 – 3 – 12 . 85mm . LR + VSCO . cloudy afternoon light