Category Archives: Children

We are the music makers,
And we are the dreamers of dreams.
~  Arthur O’Shaughnessy

M x

Remember to dream.
Every. Single. Day.

Perhaps there is a language which is not made of words and everything in the world understands it.
~ Frances Hodgson Burnett, A Little Princess

In between the asking why, the serious pouts, the fits of giggles.  When she’s not caught in a moment of wonder, or discovery, or surprise.  If she’s not concentrating on creating a new masterpiece of painting, or the grandest tea party.  Or dreaming in her bed at night.

In those other moments, she dances.  With amazing, endless energy, no matter where we are, she shows off her best ballet.  She cries out to me, “Watch me, Mummy!” while she tries to arabesque without tipping over.  She spends most of her time at home in fancy dress.  And she loves performing for whoever will pay attention.  I love how she fills every minute of her day, not a second wasted.

She gives me the courage to do what I do.  My joy in taking photos is much the same – if I’m not holding a camera, I can’t help but take pictures with my mind in those moments in-between.  I don’t quite have the confidence of my Miss Sophia.  But like her,  I try my hardest.
I attempt to arabesque without tipping over.

Better than words, and when there are none just right, or when there aren’t enough.  Or just because.  And for the love of it.

In this post to celebrate the end of her third year, I wish this for my girl.  May you always dance through life, my darling, doing whatever your heart loves best.

M x

She’s almost four.  She loves pink, and yellow.  Princesses.  Ballet.  Pretty frocks.  Barbie and Strawberry Shortcake.  Ice cream with sprinkles.  Sparkly shoes.  Long hair with plaits.  Lollypops.  Swimming.  Her scooter.  Preschool.  The park.  And huggles.  My favourite thing of all.  I wonder how I ever did without them before she was here.

I could not be more grateful for her, for every morning I wake to her embrace.  For every night I check on her and fix her covers.  And watch her sleep, just for a minute.  For every gorgeous thing she says that I wish I could record.  For the way she skips wherever we go.  For the way she wishes for snow in summer, and sunny days in winter.  Her confidence, her passion, her imagination.

My life has changed in almost every way because of her.  Some days I can still see the baby she was.  And there are moments I can almost see the beautiful woman she will become.  In between, I fall in love with the girl that she is.  And I pinch myself that she’s mine.

My Sophia-Phia pumpkin eater.  My little chicken.

My everything.

M x

There is no fence nor hedge around time that is gone.  You can go back and have what you like of it, if you can remember.  So I can close my eyes on my valley as it is today, and it is gone, and I see it as it was when I was a boy.  Green it was, and possessed of the plenty of the Earth…  there was none so beautiful.  ~ Huw Morgan, How Green Was My Valley, Richard Llewellyn

{Images shot at JinkyArt workshop, Canberra 2012}