Discovering Beauty in Everyday Life

planning pansies Originally uploaded by dmil0 I've been told recently that gratitude and paying attention in the moment will "hold me in good stead". I naturally have passed on this advice without wondering what in the world? Stead? Can you be In Stead? At Home in Stead? Well! The New Century Dictionary clarified with the following quotes: "Fly therefore, fly this fearefull stead anon" (Faerie Queene) or, "The Souldier may not move from watchfull sted [sic]" (same Faerie Queene). Ok.

My cat's name is Oona and she is a beauty. On the elderly side, she has a few mats in her hair. Arthritis has taken a toll, so I am careful to ask prior to brushing or picking her up. She seldom needs to squirm. since a quiet tone will do. I have been trained.

I was replaying the cold wind of a recent criticism and I needed a walk. There was no time, so I wrote! I’m on my way out of a rich furrow of dirt in a plowed field. Shinny, new and sparkly green and gold. Dewy with those crystal colors on the grass tips. Smell! Oh my. I move out into the sun and the rain. Fresh, clean newly turned earth. I sleep here at night, and stay awake too with the moon, and reach up for the essence of stars. My feet and all are planted in the earth, but that doesn’t mean I cannot jump from row to row, and also feel the dry dust. But it doesn’t touch my toes that reach deep into the waters of life. I sing, I soar, I swim, and I do not sink very far anymore.

It’s time for an experiment. You have probably done it a million times by accident. 1. Find a person. The next available person will do. 2. Pause and Look them in the eyes. 3. Smile, and say “Isn’t it a beautiful day?” 4. Wait 3 Complete seconds. I know. it’s a long time. (One one thousand, two one thousand, three one thousand.) Observe the results carefully, keeping track. Congratulations! The Human Race has acquired a new member, and we have a new data point!

My apple tree at home was the best tree in the neighborhood. The apples were firm and crispy tart. I loved that tree. Full and red with apples. Full and pink with blossoms. You must go look. The leaves are getting quietly sere. Thinner, now, and we can see the grass on the hill over there where the linden trees are, across the way. full and dark limbed with white snow, Icicles! Frosty windows! Ditches and leaves and mica studded sand.

I love our magic tree. Yesterday, I finally caught the golden rain tree. It took a while, since I’ve not been vigilant lately about walking, and the magic lanterns had to turn brown before I paid attention. But when I did, I saw they are upside down pyramids more or less. I saw them as squarish in my mind. Wonderful! A fine discovery. Every day they seem more like themselves.

At three I was a prodigy, at four no more I guess By five or six my days were mixed The days gone by are super clear I know it doesn’t rhyme my dear, Let’s not discuss The obvious. I know I’m not a poet, I never said I was I said was a prodigy I note without apology It’s just that life slips on its way, and I stand by because I wonder what I should have done To turn the tide, survive the run To capture days in rain and fun To frolic in the leaves of sun. I never saw it coming, though I guess it always does Another day before my feet Another flower a sly defeat Another triumph cleat by cleat With fuzz and buzz and dilemmas

I saw the magic tree again today. It’s by the path about half way up. I bet you have one-- with the odd shape, or the hollow, or just the apple tree you love or the one over at the other place. The one with the initials, the birch, the aspen that reminds. The magic tree is hollow down to the ground from head high. Pruners have gotten to it now and then, but it is still heavy to the ground with leaves. I picked a leaf and gave it to my friend, who was shut in for awhile. I asked the tree first of course. The tree has maple shaped leaves and a lumpy old trunk with two prongs around the hollow. It’s not large for a big tree, but it isn’t a small one either. It’s hard to identify, but it turns yellowish and brown in fall like a maple sycamore. One year there were mushrooms in the hollow. Large ones, as big as saucers. I’m careful near the entrance, just in case.