Nothing says "Spring" like newly opening flowers.

Nothing says “Spring” like newly opening flowers.

Tara and I visited Laurelhurst Park a couple weeks ago to take advantage of glorious February sunshine. The park was lovely, as always, though not as advanced into signs of Springtime as we had hoped. I took plenty of shots, in my typical fashion, and nothing grabbed my heart until…these.

Reaching up hopefully to a weak Spring sun.

Reaching up hopefully to a weak Spring sun.

A tiny package of delight, reaching out to me.

A tiny package of delight, reaching out to me.

The light behind these buds and flowers is inspiring!

Has that ever happened to you? You are walking along, looking around, taking all things in as more or less equal contributors into your environment, and then BLAM! An incredible snapshot is framed ahead of you. Terrible when you see it without a camera nearby. But what a treasure when the Nikon is slung around your neck at that moment. Carefully pull the strap over your head without breaking eye contact with that amazing view, switching it on as part of the fluid swish of motion, since – for heaven’s sakes the “on switch” is programmed into subconscious memory by now.

And the greatest treasure of all: when the photos look as wonderful on your laptop as they did in the tiny viewfinder.

I couldn't get enough of the fuzzy flower buds. Tara was getting chilly, hopping from one foot to the other, while I was not aware of temperature at all.

I couldn’t get enough of the fuzzy flower buds. Tara was getting chilly, hopping from one foot to the other, while I was not aware of temperature at all.

Obviously, all the light and dark made me think of black and white.

Obviously, all the light and dark made me think of black and white.

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