Picking up after
the dog in the yard this morning, I noticed a pretty little white mushroom.
It stood in
brilliant contrast to the huge, sodden, decaying toadstools of a different
species that lay smeared into thick mush on the grass.
It stood in holy
intactness, unlike the nocturnally-chewed pieces that lay scattered across
nighttime den trails.
It stood flanked
by a couple three-leaf grass clovers.
It stood in
beauty, in pristine reverence. Moisture perfectly balanced between aridity and rot.
It stood tall
but not arrogantly, elegantly though.
For about sixty-five
seconds it captured the in-the-breathing-moment of a busily-moving human. For
about three seconds it evoked a gasp of joy. For about one-fifth a minute it
was framed and reframed, positioned in the lens, captured digitally in
two-dimensional representation.
But for the
elongated stretch of an errands-filled morning and a task-driven afternoon,
that pretty little mushroom beautified the heart of one grateful Homo sapiens.
All blog images created & photographed by Jennifer J. Wilhoit unless otherwise noted. Please circulate images with photo credit: "©2015 JenniferJWilhoit/TEALarbor stories. AllRightsReserved."
