We passed this lovely view midst a meandering Sunday evening bike ride to see what was at the west end of South Avenue. (In case you wonder, it's NOT the one lane bridge envisioned in my brain - THAT is at the west end of North Avenue, and now I can keep this tidbit straight in my brain.)
Despite the scores of meadow-mountain-sky photos in my snapshot history, I was drawn yet again to the contrasting blue and gold, the tenacious weathered post, the wind visible in varied cloud shapes. The Best Husband Ever stopped and waited - without complaint! - yet again as I snap-snap-snapped away at minutely adjusted angles. (However, his goodwill stopped short of sympathy when my front bike tyre shifted and shimmied to deliver a smack of bike frame against my right knee. But then, there was no blood, so I should be glad he at least didn't guffaw as a sister might in similar circumstance - once she knew you were okay.)
Truth be told, I almost didn't stop, on grounds that I'd taken and posted enough photos of similar views.
But then I rebelled at such sad pseudo-logic, instead choosing to unapologetically partake of and mark the beauty of that very moment, which is unique from any other composition of the same elements before and since.
And so it should be with our days that we describe as, "Not much..." when asked what we've been up to lately. What if we rather say the truth of, "Oh, I've been glorying in the small beauties of weed puffs and random yard art along my lunchtime walking route!" Perhaps we'd spark a small revolution in defense of the daily intricate beauties of home, even if just in the heart of that one person.
As much as I love to travel and engage with new friends and surroundings, I love to be at home, and am always a bit torn at the crossroads of these two yens. So, reading the following quote was akin to the distilling of tension when ending chords of a song resolve.
I hope you are likewise provoked to relish the beauty in today's ordinary, wherever you are located.
“Why do you go away?
So that you can come back.
So that you can see the
place you came from with new eyes and extra colors.
And the people there
see you differently, too.
Coming back to where you started is not the
same as never leaving.”
- Terry Pratchett,
A Hat Full of Sky
"Perhaps we'd spark a small revolution in defense of the daily intricate beauties of home, even if just in the heart of that one person."ReplyDelete
There is an innate joy and contentment that comes when we see the wonder in the seemingly small things around us.
Yes and amen!Delete