what I saw, when I looked ...

Some days look bleak. . . .

. . . until I slow down,

lean in,

peer closer,

and 

really

look.

The more closely I look, the more beauty I see.

God lavishly "wastes" his creative design 

on weeds,

inside trees,

even in the midst

of decay.

All over the ordinary,

he hides

beauty.

All it takes to see it

is 

a seeker.

Come,

have a look!

(I started inside the house)

Sugar's eye.

Is there anything like the human eye to stir wonder?!

The colors it can see...

The emotions it can communicate...

The zipper!!  The colors!! 

(No, God didn't make it, but he tucked it away in a thrift store for me to find,

knowing that its bright design and pockets galore would delight me.)

Glass.  Water.  Mums.

Glossy kernels of Indian corn & popcorn.

Think of the explosion of popcorn!

The transformation of Indian corn into meal, and again into bread.

Edible art.

(I headed outside)

 Raspberries!  Giant ones, too, glowing in the sun.

He could have made us to live on mere grass, you know.

Berries are pure gift.

And speaking of grass - have you ever seen anything

so ALIVE

as the green, green grass of summer?

Emeralds don't even come close.

This purple-mauve gem of a weed is called Pennsylvania smartweed.

Like the indiscriminate rain,

flowers spring from the earth for the just and the unjust alike,

free for the looking.

Humble tansy, holding its world of yellow blossoms,

and the humble ant in his gleaming everyday suit.

The sepals on this flamboyant pokeweed!

Almost plastic perfection.

Did you ever see such fuchsia?!

 Who would ever suspect this powdery unassuming plant of a powerful fragrance

used to calm everything from digestion to anxiety?

Asiatic dayflower.

Just a delicate, frilly little weed.

Even in fall - season of death and decay - beauty is tucked away . . .

 Dogwood fruits amongst dying leaves, beside next year's blossoms-to-be.

Fallen leaf, caught in the sunlit angles of decaying poplar wood.

Lil' Spice's loud cries brought me running, sure he was hurt.

He held out his best, favorite leaf:

"It broke!!"

Between two sheets of wax paper,

we mended it.

Translucent fish scales, like delicate miniature seashells!

(Even fish scales are touched with beauty!)

Every seed pod, unique to its species.

Does He never run out of ideas?!

To tuck hard, dry, withered little kernels of life

inside fibrously whiskered cavities 

where just weeks ago

tissue-thin petals of palest pink had been?

Intricate network of veins on a poplar leaf - a study in fractal art.

Crabapple among clover.

 Leaf lace

Dried echinacea "pincushion"

 Star Magnolia flowerbuds

forming spring's lavish creamy blossoms

undercover

like a caterpillar in chrysallis

unfolding into

butterfly.

Chrysanthemum bud, blushing into blooms

to brighten autumn.

And God's greatest handiwork of all

is us,

of course.

No flower

or common creature

could have a sense of humor

like 

a boy!

May God bless you

with opened eyes

to see

what He lays

expectantly

before you!

several thousand words

Sometimes, when the words don't come, pictures will have to do:

 

bits of me

Surrounded by ten little girls in the 3rd-5th grade church club, I tore photos from magazines, chose words and images that appealed to me for any reason at all, glued them to construction paper while they did the same.  A "getting-to-know-you" activity when we began meeting in the fall, it worked well to give us a bit of a glimpse into each other's personalities and preferences.

I had so much fun, I made another one at home.  It's surprising how a collage can capture someone's essence.

It's not terribly grown-up of me, probably, but I wish I had a collage from each of my friends, to help me see life through their eyes, just a bit.

beloved enemy

"Eyes!"  declares Lil' Snip with a grin, pointing.  "Hide!  Gasses!!"

My eyes are indeed hiding behind glasses these days as the pollen flies thick and my contacts betray me by delivering the miniscule bits straight to my eyeballs, grinding like sand, regardless of whether I'm inside or out.  I who have weathered many a miserable spring due to increasingly severe allergies should despise this season violently, but how can I?

The crabapple blossoms float down in the breeze like fragrant snowflakes, layering their round pink petals over porch, walks, and grass like so many cloaks spread for a triumphal entry.  We walk on pale pink, happy for such fairy litter, and sweep away the withered ones only to make room for fresh.

Spice wants to start a log book of flowers in bloom, by month, and was about to give it up, discouraged that so many had already opened - crocus, daffodil, bluebell, star magnolia, hyacinth, primrose, bleeding heart, tulip, crabapple - when I remind her of all the flowers yet to come:  dogwood, columbine, lilac, lavender, iris, daylily, rose, daisy, peony, crepe myrtle, gladiola, hosta, and so many more.  She smiles and heads out to document her favorites.

Walking alongside her mother, a neighbor child picks a bouquet for me, dandelions and some small white wildflower.  I plop it in a pint milkbottle leftover from the dairy days here, and the roadside posy disarms me with its charm.

Even the trees offer blooms - not just the crabapple and the flowering almond, the dogwood and the orchard trees, but the maples, too, have their contribution.  "It smells like a perfumer's shop down there under the silver maple," Spice tells me, rapturous.

Among so many beauties, how could I let mere physical symptoms get me down?  I can choose which I will see, and today, at least, I will see spring instead of sneezes.

the lady I met at the park today

I love people.  So varied, with so many stories to tell.  Especially, I suppose it goes without saying, older people (more years, hence, more stories to tell).

Today, my mom drove down to my house to watch my children while I ran some errands and took some much-needed time off my job (but you other mommies know all about that).  In the morning I took Nice, my youngest daughter, to a great bulk-foods store that's out of our usual path, so that I haven't gone but once since Lil' Snip's birth a year ago.  We had a lovely time, the highlight for Nice being the dried pineapple ring she got to eat on the way home, I think.

In the afternoon, I free-styled.

First I went to the discount grocery in search of dark chocolate (success!  Newman's Own organic espresso dark chocolate!!) and then hit the library to pick up the books they regularly import from other libraries for insatiable, grateful me.

[plug:  I LOVE the library!!  all the books a person could want, free for the borrowing, nice people with whom to chat and swap book recommendations, and air conditioned comfort for temporarily escaping the responsibilities of home life.]


Then I was off in search of a restful place to read and daydream (people-watching optional).

The park was loaded with large children on the loose for the summer and rather lacked the serenity I sought.  I drove on.

I remembered a smaller park a friend had showed me, hidden in the center of a residential area, and began threading my way up and down streets and alleys till I found it.  There were two other parties there - a mom with two young daughters in matching dresses, and an anonymous driver napping in an SUV.

I parked and found a bench in partial shade.  When my legs fell asleep, I moved to the grassy hillside, and read till it was almost time to go home.  On my way out, I noticed an older lady weeding one of the flowerbeds and stopped to express my appreciation of the park's well-kept appearance.

As we chatted, she wondered if she had heard me laugh over my book, and what I was reading.  We traded favorite authors-of-the-moment (Alexander McCall Smith and Richard Paul Evans), and talked about the best spots to plant hydrangea (partial shade, wettish soil) and why our rosebushes' blooms looked "crippled" this year (too much rain?).

She recommended the parks' summer concerts to me and took me to her house across the way to give me her program.  I admired the green glass bottles on the windowsill (I collect blue).  We chatted our way back to the park and she said she'd look for me at the next concert.

It is so easy to find new friends.  It takes so little effort - a smile and a compliment - and yields such satisfying results.  Behind every unknown face is a story waiting to be told, similarities waiting to be unearthed.

I want to remember to ask, more often.