“Outdoors we are confronted everywhere with wonders; we see that the miraculous is not extraordinary, but the common mode of existence.
It is our daily bread.” Wendell Berry
Wonders
Photos
Strawberries in the Sand
Every year at the beach we search for strawberries in the sand. One of us will return from a long walk on the beach and announce, “I found six strawberries!” The others of us will admire the find and tell the lucky finder how pretty the strawberries are. Each day more of us will search and find our strawberries and we’ll talk about whose is the pinkest or which has its wings intact.
Strawberries in the sand are actually calico scallop shells and the “wings” are technically called ears. I’m not sure how the shells came to be known to us as strawberries but I can guess it’s because of the red, maroon, or rose colors found on most of them. However the “strawberry” name happened, it stuck. We even call the black scallops, “black strawberries”.
We throw the barnacle-encrusted strawberries back into the waves and continue our hunt. Our favorite strawberries are deep purples or vibrant pinks with no holes and both wings. If the colors are especially beautiful or unique enough, then holes and wings make no difference.
We’ve been calling them by the name for so long we forget that others don’t know about it. A newcomer to our beach gathering gives strange looks when we talk about searching for strawberries on the beach.
It’s just one of our things. Like chocolate gravy on Christmas Eve and stargazing in the back of a pickup on hot August nights, gathering stalks of cotton from the fields in October, or The Sound of Music the day after Thanksgiving.
Every family has those things.
What are some of yours?
Focus
In response to the Weekly Photo Challenge Focus.
I snapped this photo with my phone because I loved the lushness enveloping me as I stood under the big pecan tree in our yard. This same tree was featured in another one of the photo challenges – Big. Here I focused on the worm-like blooms, called catkins.
The catkins are gone now. The wind shook the blooms and released the pollen that triggered watery eyes, sneezing, and coughing for so many. The leaves have turned a deeper green and the nuts are getting ready for fall when the squirrels will steal all the tasty treats they can before someone else picks them up.
This photo from the other side of the tree is focused on the background instead of the catkins. That wasn’t on purpose but I like it.
Green Thumb
My grandmother had a green thumb. I have bright memories of her, or maybe I remember someone else’s memories of her, in the yard with her long sleeves and sun hat, weeding her flower gardens, pruning her roses, or moving plants from one spot to another. She was an award winning rose gardener. According to old, torn and yellowed newspaper clippings, roses were her specialty.
I don’t know if she was ever recognized for her daffodils and irises but they’re beautiful and bountiful. Decades after her work of transplanting, dividing bulbs, storing rhizomes, and tending to them they still burst through the top of the earth.
Patches of irises and daffodils (we call them buttercups) are all over our and the neighbor’s yard which was my grandmother’s place a long time ago.
The cheerful yellow flowers are the first to show their colors as soon as the sun warms the cold winter ground enough. The irises come up later and stand tall. Buttercups are my favorite.
Grandmother’s green thumb is still coloring the landscape.
Perspective
I spotted this miniature scene on one of my downtown walks recently. I was surprised to find it where it was, but I was even more surprised I hadn’t noticed it before.
The tiny door sits at the bottom of a very large tree standing on the narrow grassy area between the sidewalk and the busy street. Once the door caught my eye, I stopped to take a photo. I wanted to stay and look more carefully…..to see what other tiny things I could find…… but I felt I was intruding.
And it wasn’t until I studied the photo closely that I noticed the little pumpkin or gourd with a little green leaf on top next to the door. See it? 
I almost missed this odd little sight. Almost walked right past it like I had before.
What else do I miss? Do I see what I should see?
“What you see and what you hear depends a great deal on where you are standing. It also depends on what sort of person you are.”
C.S. Lewis (The Magician’s Nephew)
A Clear View
Though my daughter and I climbed the mountain for about two hours, our view didn’t compare to this guy’s atop the imposing flatiron.
Blake and I were content to watch others as we rested and shared our snacks.
Several teenagers climbed a rock below us to see the other side and get a different view.
High or low, on a mountain or in the valley, the happiest of times, the sad ones, and the scary ones too…..the best view is the one where you look back and see God’s mercies.
And when you can do that…..
you have the best view of all.
Scale
Full of Grace
This is grace.
So is this.
And this.
It’s the beauty of a pale blue sky or a fiery orange sunrise.
It’s your feet in the sand. And a love note. And a really good hug.
It’s evident within the intricate design of nature.
You see it in the eyes of children and hear it in the laughter of friends.
It’s the snowy white of a cotton field ready for picking. Or the blackest of nights with a million glimmering stars.
And when you catch a glimpse of a shooting star streaking across the sky you’ve experienced it.
You can smell it when breakfast is cooking and taste it in a homemade chocolate sheath cake.
You feel it when you remember a time long ago that makes you smile.
It’s every single breath you take.
We are surrounded by grace.
We just have to pay attention.
Sunset
What a beautiful way to begin the wrapping up of a day. All of my scurrying around……checking off my “to do” list……working at this and planning that….
Comes to a stop.
As I look in wonder at the sunset. Taking it in.
The pinks and blues and light oranges come through the darkened trees…..
Moments later the colors fade…..the sky is darker….
And I’m thankful for the Giver of colorful sunsets.
Wonderfully Wild
When I was young I thought I knew exactly how I wanted my life to be. I dreamed and planned and prepared the best way I knew how.
Not that all of it was for nothing. It wasn’t. Plans are good. We should know where we’re going and how we’re going to get there.
But all the planning in the world can’t prepare you for the wonderfully wild life of love and grace and faith and hope.
In response to the Weekly Photo Challenge Bridge and the Daily Prompt Tame.
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