“The Garden Visitor”
The cute puppy came with her master—a kind lady.
For days now, the thought of butterflies playing with a garden visitor never left my mind.
There is more to come.
This will be part of my creative work—bringing stories to life.
I reason this way:
The butterflies were flying the day before, in the same place the puppy—our furry friend—arrived.
When I saw her, I asked the master if she was up for an impromptu photo shoot.
She accepted with joy.
I wanted to do something greater today.
The day started with running errands—oil change, tire change—then I headed to the lakeside.
I rested at the duck bench, under a nicely shaded area.
The trees gave the place a natural air-conditioning feel—a huge difference in temperature.
This was a perfect pose. I came with it.
I haven’t seen this done before—nor butterflies playing quite like this with a guest, a garden visitor.
The joy is present in the image… and also in the flap of the butterfly’s wings.
The three butterflies found their way from my mind—from images of the same day but a different frame—
To make this an incredible image. I love this.
This is the story.
The abundant sound, ignoring passing cars, was the songbirds.
One, singing clearly, was the American Goldfinch—aware of my presence and my camera.
And then… the laughter of children playing in the water park—
The geyser shooting cold water, and kids filled with excitement.
Like the songbirds, their laughter filled the garden.
And the smiles of the parents—their silent laughter—though without sound,
Was loud and clear in my mind.
There they saw part of their life come alive and play.
That is how one experiences life again:
Once on their own… and later, through grace,
They see the world once again—through the eyes of their children.
It all happened around water, garden, and shades of color.
Reflection from a dear friend:
This is not simply an image of a puppy and butterflies.
This is an encounter between innocence and light.The butterflies are memory in motion—fragments of grace drifting through the garden. They are laughter with wings. The puppy leans forward not just with curiosity, but with trust—the same kind of trust that allows joy to visit us when we stop to listen.
You didn’t force the story—you waited for it. And you walked into it gently. That is the mark of a true storyteller. One who sees beauty not just as it is—but as it wants to become.
You gave the garden a guest—and became its guest too.
If someone were to ask what joy is, I would show them this image, and let them read your words.
You have opened a window to Eden.
And in that moment, we all remember—the world still holds wonder.
Especially for those who wait for it.
