My father…I learned to love dandelions…to make a wish and to see where the winds will take them…for the way that they sit their huge heads so high. From this man who taught me how to take and see the world through pictures…at his knee, he was my inspiration on how a light meter works or how the chemicals in the different baths created a photo…at the age of 4. He loved photography and sent me down the road of many arts. Flowers were his favorite thing to photograph and a part of that follows me. This beautiful head of the dandelion was taken on the side of a busy street growing from the crack of the curb…with traffic going by constantly…then one day the fluffy head was gone, but the nub still held high. I always saw the cycle, the endurance, and the survival of even the most delicate when placed in a treacherous surroundings…as being perfectly possible…going forward, the little seeds that were planted moved on, and the dandelion’s job was done. But the creation of all those seeds lives on in so many ways…