Little Fire

Your flames burn bright

They light the corners of the night

You climb so high

You touch the archer in the sky

The morning of Aidan's first birthday, the sweetness of black locust blossoms filled the air.  I grabbed a handful to munch in the van, we pulled out of the driveway on our way south, and that evening found us in Grandma O's kitchen celebrating Aidan's first year.

He was not impressed with the bib.

At first, he didn't even know what to think of the cake.

He definitely didn't know how to respond to Bryan taking pictures,

but it didn't take long for him to get a handle on cake-eating.

That's my boy!

We love you, little spark!  May the Maker fan your flames, and may you burn brightest when night is darkest.