Flower Press

We live a pretty slow existence here, my babes and I. Gentle barefoot wanders in leafy places stopping to pick this, smell that. The kitchen bench is constantly littered with remnants of these times outdoors. I treasure her keen eye and quiet stance when some reptilian soul crosses out path. I adore how she really knows  plants; how they work, the names of the parts, what they are for. I smile at how he stuffs each one ever so delicately in his mouth.

But blooms dry up, petals fade and seeds that were once locked safely inside strew the floor. Ah, to stop time in this ongoing life cycle of growth. To be able to cradle the beauty of a flower forever. A snapshot of each of it's magnificent stages of development.

If only my babes would fit in the flower press.

Steph x