Every weekday morning after I bundle the kidlet on to the bus I walk home through my local park. It's a tiny secluded space tucked conveniently a few doors away from our urban homestead.
And yet every day I find more mystical and magical denizens through my camera's lens.
This tough bugger I have walked past about a million times in the last 6 years. But only today did he feel like letting me see him.
Perhaps he's as sick of the snow as I have finally become. Which is no mean feat!
I think I'll call him Ernest. He has the gruff exterior of a steelman come off a double shift of pulling molten hell into rolls of shiny cash for The Man. But I like to think he gives caramels to the younger fae when other adults are not around.
I will listen closer this afternoon to see if he is growling to the squirrels to get off his lawn!