I used to HATE, despise, loathe my freckles when I was little. They resembled little blobs of drab paint, and I wondered why on earth God gave them to me. Everyone remarked about them. Heck, I even remember Paul Anderson (who I had a HUGE liking for) making fun of my freckled knees. “You even have freckles on your KNEES!” he exclaimed for the whole group of kids to hear–the ones who never paid attention to me (and I was okay with that) until that brief moment of frozen time when every ball stopped bouncing and every jaw stopped chewing bubble gum to look at my knees. Paul also called me “monkey arms”. I think he liked me.
This sweet capture holds better freckles than any I’ve ever seen. Look at them! They’re like sweet, sharp, Sharpie pen marks. They’re perfect.
I wrestled with going black and white or color on this one for one reason. Her hair is a beautiful shade of red. But here? I wanted you to see “freckles”.