Discovering Beauty in Everyday Life

Can  you see the root inching over to the path?  Perhaps a voyage in the making?  I have heard that very often a tree may decide that it's time to venture out, or at least to stick a toe in the waters of a new life. 

Here is our magic tree with its pet rock, returned after a storm - lashed voyage to ...somewhere

The hunt is on! Where were they planted? Here, there? Down the hill, past the yellow tree, next to the fence by the smallest tree? But which smallest tree? Which fence? It's not as though you have a nice row with a stake holding up a seed packet! Thank goodness we put a chopstick next to some of them, but the wood chipper has been here. Could this be one of ours? And there it is--barely sticking up, bitten and short, but with 'volunteer' clearly etched in ballpoint. Can you believe it? How beautiful is our very own daffodil. I know lucky Wordsworth saw ten thousand at a glance but I can't think of anything more happy-making than a single, tall, slightly eaten daffodil of one's own.

I was wandering home along a shortcut, considering the makeup of a mirror. Not that I would mention it. Yet on this shortcut home, while toying with the concept of reflected things, there appeared before me the likeness of a fence. An analog, a semblance really; a sun-reflected rubbing in my path.

Thank goodness the blossoms arrived in time to cover the afternoon soccer game!

How do you know it's spring at last?  I looked at the calendar and  wasn't sure, but then I saw the blue, blue sky reflected in a spring raindrop. 

It's another rainy evening, with my cat curled up and the windows streaked.

Wait!  It looks like another seeker is creeping up to join in the ceremony.   Yes, I see a person now.  I'm focusing, I'm drawing closer, SNAP I got it!

This rare photo was taken on the first full day of spring. The ceremony was witnessed surreptitiously of course. Anthropologists have determined that the intent of this seldom seen ceremony is to absorb the spiritual essence of the of spring, while leaving no harmful trace.

Aren't they darling?     Pigeons!    Noisy, say some.    Pigeons make  noise, yes, they have a quiet purr-like coo.  Have you listened to any traffic lately? Beauiful pigeons courting and living life under the bluest sky

Have you noticed how beautiful wilting flowers are?  I have some purchased tulips on a table.  They have been here for four days now, and they are hanging horizontally, looking out from their vase.  The petals are very translucent now, and very pale.  It's hard to tell, since the night camera flashing casts a shadow that belies the delicate flowers.

Some things are completely self explanatory, in their way.  

What about rain?  I haven't often had a rain walk, but soon if it rains there will be a wet and hardy opportunity. Did you know there is more than one way to create a water color?    Here we are in Crestone once again, painting the garden with water.  

I know he did, I have been told about it over and over again. Why? I just don't know, but I am sure he was shaped like an egg. We know eggs don't fall down and break into a thousand little pieces, but that's what happened to Humpty! Was Humpty just an empty shell? Who writes these things anyway?  Here's a wall.  Oh, never mind It's a ceiling. But nobody is sitting on it, are they? Or is it "is they?" Now here's a real wall.  Two of them! And a person, who is neither sitting on one  nor falling off! Now, that's my kind of wall.

Once Upon a Time. What a wonderful phrase. I tried to look up 'Upon' in my Mother's old Thesaurus, and it was not in the index of words. My new Thesaurus has it though, and it is crosses with a lot of 'w' words: whereupon, whereon, whereat {eat anywhere you like}, whereto whereuntil, wherewith, wherefore, and on another tack entirely, hereinafter. Actually, both Thesaurus' have 'once upon a time' in them. How about these synonyms: heretofore, aforetime, erenow, hitherto, one fine day and time was? I would personally suggest adding wheretofore and whitherto. Anyway, Once Upon a Time while sitting at my desk, I was wondering about the fate of a caterpillar, when all of a sudden it occurred to me to concern myself with my own. Fate, that is. Pondering, I set out in my mind to wonder about why people and pets come and go more or less individually, while the leaves fed upon by their bugs seem to do it all at once. All at once, I began to think about hiber

It's hard to tell the shy one from the others in this time of year, but I recall the shape. Hidden in summer by the green veil of nearby leaves; nearly invisible in winter with its grey lace of twigs against the general grayness; now see the reddish filigree of buds along the branch tips? The Blushing tree is transparent, waiting for spring.

It is simply not feasible to describe a golden Witch Hazel.  It seems to be everywhere now, though we have it on good authority that it blooms in late October.  So many experts!  I hear it's pollinated by other hardy species like gnats, since butterflies and bees are long ago and far away.  But if perchance there were a bee or two, they'd dine on Metropolitan Witch Hazel. I know I would.  

by Edward Kemeys (1843–1907)

Finally!  The snow has melted under the newly curled Witch Hazel blooms, and look what we found?  Galanthus!   But wait~~ Galanthus is a genus, not a snowdrop.  What's worse, it is a small genus.  What in the world is a small genus? And while we are at it, what is a genus after all?    Well, it's a category. A category of plants or animals that ranks "next above the species and next below the family".*  Ergo, we have the family Amaryllidaceae----->genus galanthus----->Species -~-hmmm.  Are the snowdrops the species?  Or the Genus?  Shall we get back to the point?  Here with us today, under the enchanted witch hazel  tree, is a slew of happy snowdrops watching spring. * Galanthus is a small genus of about 20 species in the family Amaryllidaceae commonly known as Snowdrops. Most flower in winter, before the Spring Equinox ( OFTEN on 21st March in the Northern Hemisphere--Italics are mine)

I had a glimpse the other day, of an alternate point of view. I realize it may seem futile to recall it, considering the nature of a glimpse. A gleam of course is more substantial; one may contemplate a gleam. Faint and unsteady, there is truly little hope for a glimmer or a glint, While a glance, alas, may be here and gone without a trace.  

How could we have missed them?  There was simply not a single little Witch Hazel  tree to be found from June through December, and most lore-authorities say they bloom in the Fall, every other year.  Well, we have a different tale to tell! These witches have a special magic brew.   On sight, they fire a burst of energy straight to the heart of the soul