On mops and melancholy

A hasn’t had his hair cut for a year, the whole time we’ve lived in New Zealand. As it grew longer, his sandy hair gradually turned golden from the sunshine and it was lovely—when it wasn’t in his eyes or being chewed on. This last habit was what prompted the Great Haircut.

102_3169

102_3162

Our open-air salon and my good sport.
102_3173

Unexpectedly, tears sprang to my eyes when I made the first cut. It felt a little like I was cutting freedom and sunshine and childhood.

Also, probably I just want long hair again myself. 🙂

He says he’s going to grow it out again and promises not to chew it next time it’s chin-length. We’ll see.

I left the hair out for the birds to take, but they didn’t get it all before it started raining.
102_3190

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s