More than Petal-deep

I'm always amazed at the beauty and perfection in a lone flower or petal, whether its shape is misformed, damaged by weather or dying. I have a huge number of photos of all kinds of flowers, berries, plants and leaves which the viewing of, cheers me up on dull days.

As I get older I view people this way too, something I should have done when I was younger, but probably too arrogant, immature and proud to do so.

I am no beauty, as someone pointed out to me a couple of years' ago, when comparing me with a photo of my mother in her twenties. She was indeed a striking woman with high cheekbones, full pouting lips and thick, dark hair; nothing like me at all.

When I look at my four daughters, I see four very striking, beautiful women, who, like my mother, are all much more attractive than me. I must be a throwback to a hard-working, work-weary ancestor; of the tall, fair, plain variety. Nevertheless, I have managed to turn a few heads in my time; probably in disbelief, rather than admiration. And when someone has told me how attractive I am, I just don't believe them. He told me often how lovely and attractive I was, and still I didn't believe him, saying that he was biased.

I now think that we are all like the flowers and plants in my photos; no matter how weather-beaten, stunted, broken, misformed, damaged or dying; we are all beautiful in one way or another.

More than petal-deep.