I am in the garden this morning, looking around for what I can photograph. More than anything, there is the feeling of promise: the emergence of buds, of plants just peeking up out of the ground.
I take a lot of my photos sitting on the ground. As I focus on my shot, I hear a soft 'plop' behind me. I know this sound - it follows me throughout the yard, whether I'm pulling weeds or putting in a new plant or just simply sweeping or watering. I can always guarantee I'm going to hear this sound.
I turn around to look, although I know perfectly well what the sound is coming from.
I keep moving, knowing that my little red shadow will be able to keep up. I take photos of the delphiniums, the roses, the Iceland poppies, all showing signs of finally blooming.
I take photos of the wildflowers appearing from the seeds I planted last month. Even there, the little red shadow is in the background.
I hear the plop again - there he is. He's getting bolder, now lying in wait right smack in the middle of a plant. He's sweaty, as if he's been working hard to get my attention.
I finish at the foxglove. My neighbor Kathy gave me this one this year and says she has more for me. The foxglove is already in full glory.
I stop and rest. There's that sound again.
I turn around and there he is. But this time he's brought his partner.