My Grandmother was an avid gardener. From my perspective, she could name/ recognize every flower she saw. It was a passion of hers, she grew them, and appreciated them.

When my Grandparents gifted me several boxes filled with decades of family photos, I found within dozens of pictures of random flowers. In my heart, I know they were pictures my Grandfather took for my Grandmother.

Whenever I vstop to take a picture of a flower, no matter where in the world I am , I think of my Grandparents. Of how carefully my Grandfather would frame his shots. I find myself wishing my Grandmother was at my side, to whisper the name of the plant in my ear.

I still don’t know what flowers I was admiring on Moorea, in French Polynesia. What I do know is I had an incredibly relaxing afternoon, walking around, enjoying the beauty of the flowers, and thinking of my Grandparents, and how much they would have enjoyed being there with me.