Golden boy

A grey tarmac road, a track, a field, a gate. My golden haired boy runs and darts, feet barely touching the ground. He is smiling, all teeth and dimples; backwards and forwards he goes, offering arms to lift and hands to hold then pulling away to freedom and the joy of swift movement. There is a gang of us on this expedition but I cannot keep my eyes or my camera away from this little one with the bright halo of hair.

Both of my boys have mounds of hair upon their heads; it's amazing stuff that just gets bigger and fuller as it grows. Eli's has lost its blonde innocence and I think this winter may take the light from Monty's too. This could be the last time I get to capture the glow of those curls; the light scattered like fairy dust along the threads of his mane. The shimmering, shining wonder of it.

My brother and my dad had the same thick golden hair when they were children, but sadly they both lost a large amount of it when they hit their twenties. I think it came as a shock to my dad at the tender age of twenty-one to suddenly have his crowning glory coming away in drifts. To this day, he blames the standard issue army beret he was obliged to wear during his National Service. I'm more inclined to blame genetics, when I and others appreciate my boys' locks, it is always edged with a slight sadness that this gift may be lost before they are ready to part with it. So for now, we let it grow long and luxurious, a tangle of tresses to trap the light with.

(Can you spot the little sprite in the trees?)

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This is my late post for the Nurture Photography Challenge - there are some stunning pictures that people have contributed on the theme of yellow/light this week. I can recommend having a look.