capturing the moment

I have two grandparents, one living, one dead, utterly enamored of the natural world. My grandmother Gaye still clucks with pleasure at each new bloom on her oak leaf hydrangea and catches her breath whenever a yellow finch darts around the feeder outside her kitchen window. She brazenly coaxes languishing blossoms with words of encouragement and chats with the birds. I dare to say they all listen to her. My grandpa George was also a naturalist, planting lavish gardens, tending chickadees and drawing, painting and carving exquisite ducks and birds. Today my son revealed his genes, and although I could have photographed a thousand lovely flowers, fish and green things, I couldn't stop trying to capture him capture the moment.



We had a date to the Garfield Park Conservatory, with the added fun of train and el rides. The fern room was my favorite. The variety of green, the lush, velvety fronds and mosses, the waterfalls, the thick, heady air.



But most of all, it was the dappled sunlight in that miniature jungle, and the sweet concentration of my sweaty little companion that stole my heart.


Our world has been grey and barren for so long that this excursion was like a visit to the chocolate factory for poor little Charlie. In order to drink it all in, we toured the entire conservatory three times. We could hardly get enough of the place.

On the way home we had a short layover in Oak Park and stopped into a novelty shop to see about spending a little of the boy's allowance. I think he made a good purchase, and found another creative way to delight his mom.