i have such reverence for what these photographs represent. that boy, there, with the red umbrella? that's my companion, my one to adventure with, my very own camerado.
rare is the one who can wander, truly wander, without asking, so where are we going? i myself have always been a wanderer, delighted to make my way through the world, coffee and camera in hand, drinking in the wonder and romance of it all. for a great stretch of time, my singular fear was that i might never find someone to see, do, delight in it all alongside. that i might be too much of something for someone. because it isn't often that you come across the sort of person happy -- content -- to delight in life's smallest joys and wander, truly wander, without asking, so where are we going?, and that's precisely the sort of life i aim to share.
and yet. there he is. the answer to my most earnest prayer, clutching a red umbrella we bought for february rain in paris that never fell, utterly heart-glad to stroll through central park on a drizzly autumn sunday. i couldn't have dreamed him up better.
so it rains on our plans to go for a long, slow walk towards nowhere in particular? still, we'll grab an umbrella and go. maybe we'll get a little bit bet. certainly we'll get central park, dressed for october, all to ourselves.
somewhere between the icelandic language and the icelandic band sigur ros' made up language, hopelandic, rests a single word for jumping into puddles -- hoppípolla. if you haven't heard the song, it's worth a listen. it's what we'll be taking our first walk as husband & wife to.
but i digress: i love that there is a word for it, for the unbridled joy, for the whimsy, for the feeling, for the memory.