“If I’m going to sing like someone else, then I don’t need to sing at all.”

– Billie Holiday

For the last year, I have been photographing dandelions.  For some reason, I just love those little yellow weeds; and the beauty of their flowers at each different stage of their life cycle just captivates me.  One of these days I plan to compile an album of dandelion portraits; and when I collect them from all my saved pictures, I know there will be hundreds to choose from.

Part of what attracts me to dandelions is their wild status as weeds.  Their variety is amazing, and I just can’t get enough of looking at the many different and wonderful ways they sneak into the manicured green of people’s lawns.  When I walk with my camera, I take shots of any interesting or beautiful things along the way.  Garden flowers also call out to me, and I love their varied colors and shapes and the way people assemble them to bring color to their homes.  But one or two pictures of these straight, uniform, cultivated blossoms are enough to satisfy me.  They sing the song of their gardener — and it is beautiful, indeed.

What I love about my dandelions is their individuality.  I never know when or where I will find one.  There are no reliable dandelion beds along my walking path — they just pop up wherever they have the notion to sing out their song; and it is a different variation each time they take center stage.  I hope that I bring beauty to the world as I walk.  I hope there is something of me that captures someone’s attention in a good and uplifting way.  I hope that when I speak my truth or sing my song that I do it in the dandelion fashion — colorfully, unexpectedly, and with pure joy.  Maybe that is the reason I love them so much.  Maybe I am a dandelion myself.