The first morning.
“I just sat for half an hour listening to the birds speak to one another, staring at trees and a meadow.”
“How long has it been since you did that?”
“Uh, never. “
Oh I’ve known calm observations of nature. I have a few memories of them. But they usually last sixty seconds. I will say I had a hard time not opening my laptop or my book as the minutes ticked by -- at first. I resisted just merging with the sounds and view. But it is early enough in the morning that the sun is still glinting off the dew, the temperature is that perfect feeling of the lightest sheet against your skin. This porch has many options for me to sit and ponder my life from: a swing, a rocker, a picnic table, lawn chairs. Right now I’m writing from the picnic table…
The dew is one of my favorite things about nature. An example of perfection. All those tiny droplets, glinting on each blade of grass like diamonds. I love the dew. I wonder on a cloudy day if the dew is still there and no one notices it. I wonder how many days I walk right past it, not noticing. But today it is outdoing itself putting on a show for me. Taking a picture of the dew is never a satisfying exercise for me (reminder, writing blog not photography blog). It is like photographing the moon. No photos I take resemble reality. But I’m going to stop here and try a few shots.
"I don't see it"
"Wait, I think I see it"
I have a whole post about sun on snow. Sun on dew deserves to be a strong first cousin. Crystals. Harder to see, you have to look really close to see diamonds and not just crab grass and mown down dandelions. But it is there, waiting. Unseen 99 time s out of a hundred, or 999 times out of a thousand, but still there, waiting to be noticed. Nature is beauty waiting to be noticed.