Not long ago, after a few days of rain, I found myself walking through an area with numerous wooded ravines. Many of them spoke with their unique faint song as water flowing down from above burbled and gurgled over rocks and logs. Each nameless song affected me as music of the purest kind. Certainly not rich in tonality and melody like that encountered in a concert hall but perhaps with a more quiet seductiveness. The next day while walking in the same woods that song was gone.
That same rain caused river levels to rise then after a few days of dry frigid weather they started to recede. As with the burbling and gurgling water there was no deliberate intention and no audience was requested but the receding water level in backwater pools left beauty in the ice. The message in this “art” was undoubtedly as varied as the people who might chance upon it. I smiled realizing that it’s beauty rivalled anything I could create. Today the weather is warmer and I haven’t been back to look at the ice.
Much of nature’s beauty is subtle, fleeting, and then gone. I’m blessed to be here just long enough to share in the celebration. Contemplating my being on the cosmic scale of space and time it’s hard to wrap my head around the fact that I’m here at all, but here I am, listening to the flow of water over rocks, looking at nature’s hand in ice, richer in nature’s moment.
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