Listening to my daughter

Dahlia's tree
London, ON
October 2008

Driving the kids to school is one of the neat things I relish about being a dad. In the overall scheme of life, it's a little thing, right up there with feeding the dog, clearing snow off the car, emptying the table after dinner and tucking in at bedtime. But like all of these supposedly mundane moments, it gives us a chance to just be ourselves and be a family.

So as we drove to school on this bright early autumn morning, Dahlia found herself spotting trees. They hadn't really begun to change colors at that point (it was Oct. 7), but this one stood out in a sea of surrounding green.

She gushed about it, talking about how ahead of the others it was, and how she wished it would stay this bright for a long time. She especially liked how various parts of it were shades of green, brilliant red, and yellow. She's got an artist's soul, just like my wife.

As luck would have it, I had my camera with me that morning. So after I dropped her off, I stopped and grabbed a few pictures of what had now become my daughter's tree.

Over a month later, the tree's branches are now bare, echoing those of virtually every tree in the area, and it luckily escaped damage during the freak blizzard late last month. Every time we pass by, I look for Dahlia's tree and think about that simple moment we shared on an average morning not so long ago. I hope she remembers the experience as softly as I do.

Maybe the little things aren't so little, after all.

Your turn: Are they?

About this photo: Thought I'd sneak in one last autumn-themed picture before introducing the new Thematic Photographic theme at 7:00 Eastern tonight. We'll be exploring "rows" next time out, and I hope you come back - tonight and through the week - to share your vision with everyone here.

One more thing: I've assembled a set of colorful images on Flickr. Click here for more.