the
way the setting sun gives the tall old redwood an auburn halo
the
leaf pasted to the walkway with water from yesterday’s sprinkling rain: one
fallen maroon art piece framed by a watermark, framed by the dry path
one richly fluffy fall dandelion seed head as eager to
repopulate as his springtime forebears
the rugged alto voice of that woodpecker who spent her late
summer elsewhere but has now returned to the sycamore in our yard
the infinite views of the sky through the negative space of a
tree’s limbs
a happy patch of fuchsia flowers, too tiny to pick, too precious
to yank from the source of life just for my fleeting pleasure
rocks, sand, grass, leaves, seeds, flower petals on the
ground…an everchanging kaleidoscope animated by winds and precipitation
the drops of dew or misty rain or melted frost as they slide
down a tilted leaf to hydrate the earth
venus, jupiter, and red, red, red mars clustered like friends in
a still-black morning sky
the gorgeous, peaceful, joyous smile radiating like the sun’s
rays beyond the beautifully wise face to all who view it – a smile that is his nature, that transcends boundaries
of time and space and sickness, and which weaves and warms the threads of
shared history to become the present moment of deepest, significant connection
the painting of sunrises and sunsets: sky as canvas, light and
shadow as palette, air as the etcher of design
a full harvest moon rising up, within reach, above the
peacefully sleeping cemetery
two soft curves in the garter snake’s body as he moves toward
shelter
the flick of the squirrel’s tail, fat body held on the trunk by clenching feet that do not find vertical running troublesome
the newly visible arc of a now leafless branch
the way shadows create new lives – flat gray ephemeral puppets
changing views – always changing views: plants that flourish or
die back, weather, days and nights and seasons and cycles
one incredibly diverse colorful textured inhabited planet with
more richness to savor than this small life could ever come to know
We start by noticing those small, local shifts – by remembering
to look up and down, sideways, widely left to right and right to left – moving closer
for a better look. Paying attention.
...making the decision to care about that chocolate brown spider who
has lived in the caulk line edging the tub on the bathroom floor for the past
three days...
These are all gifts. Cherishable. Crucial. Sacred.
All blog images created & photographed by Jennifer J. Wilhoit unless otherwise noted. Please circulate images with photo credit: "©2015 JenniferJWilhoit/TEALarbor stories. AllRightsReserved."
