Most of our days this past week were gray days.
As a photographer, I love these sorts of days. They offer beautiful, diffused light, that in my opinion, is magic.
They are also strangely quiet and relaxing without demanding that we remain indoors.
On one of our gray days this past week, we decided to hop in the wagon and walk a few blocks down to a field on the edge of our hood. In the summer, this field is full of wildflowers (which we often stop to pick), but currently the flowers are absent and it is filled instead with the barren warmth of golden wild grasses. I’ve always wanted to go up the street and capture a few images of my babes standing amidst that grass…
It’s about 10am or so and I grab my camera and the kids hop into the wagon. I wonder for a fleeting moment if these grey clouds hold any moisture or if they are on their way out, so I grab a blanket and throw it in the wagon just in case.
We make it to the spot. Blissfully I shoot away.
Suddenly I was pulled from my reverie by something soft yet urgent.
Stuff kids in the wagon. Cover them with blanket. Place camera in boy’s lap and tell him to protect it from the rain at all cost.
Haul a** home.
The slow sprinkling quickly turned into big fat drops and by the time we were halfway home, it was pouring on us. Neighbors watched half-amused, half-horrified as I sprinted down the sidewalk, wet hair blowing wild, with the wagon in tow. I know I looked completely crazy and to make the crazy even better, Asher was screaming “faster mama faster!” and I was laughing wildly at the whole situation as I heaved and panted (honestly, I was loving it. It felt like something from a movie-hilarious and romantic- running through the pouring rain with hair flying free… I know I’m ridiculous.). One kind neighbor who had driven passed us and just pulled into his driveway asked if we had much further to go. Not sure if he understood my reply (“justa *pant* fewmore down,* gulp* thanks!”), but by the look on his face, I am convinced we looked absolutely insane.
When we made it to the safety of the front porch, I turned to check on my camera children and let out a sigh of relief. Asher’s face got all serious and he said, “Mama your hair is crazy.” And then he pulled out my dry camera, which he had held tightly under the blanket with care and precision. My boy knows my heart so well.
And our poor little bit, she didn’t know what to think.
But as soon as I snapped this photo and kissed her right on those sweet little lips, she was all smiles.
Gray days are good.
And especially so, when they end with golden rays that peek through to warm your skin and heart.