Wednesday, August 13, 2008


Have you noticed the ridiculous numbers of rainbows we've had recently? Splendid, I think. Oh how I love the rain! And fall is coming. I feel it in the air when I'm biking to and from work. The joyfulness of summer has a little hint of sorrow. It's not truly sad, but just a touch of something deeper. It's starting to show its age. A few yellow leaves, a cold edge to the breeze.

This morning when I was biking to work, I saw a really beautiful moment in nature. The sun was about 25 degrees off the horizon, and very yellow and bright. It had rained overnight, so all the woods and fields were moist and drippy and smelled like leaves and hay. As I came over on of the bridges, I noticed that in a newly cut wheat field, the dew was beginning to rise. It was so natural a scene that it felt sacred. Like it wasn't meant for humans to see nature in such a sublime moment. Of course, every day the dew rises and the sky soaks it up. But I felt very out of place on that bridge. Like I was the only one who didn't have a part in the big show. The sun evapourated the water, which trapped light for the plants, which showed off the movement of the breeze, which mystic shapes in the mist, which rose serenely through the sunlight and made everything seem like a moment when all nature would just explode into thousands of colours. Not forms and beings. Just light every shade of every rainbow that was ever conceived.

And who am I to see this? Just Becca. I felt like a person who doesn't know that the restaurant they're going to is really high class and wears mucky heans and a stained sweatshirt.

I don't feel as if I did nature any justice with this. A picture wouldn't either. For you to know what I mean, I would have to take you back to that exact moment and place and frame of mind. And the fact that that's impossible is a minor chord in a happy song. Makes it that much more beautiful

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