29th day of noting beautiful things, and an April weekend:
A rambling old river twists through the fields
Ancient names printed on shields
Gifts arrive for a baby girl
Born a queen at the end of the world
~from “Song From the End of the World” – The Waterboys
beautiful things found in the process of a quiet, sun-filled weekend:
My bloggy pal Selma wrote a story about an artist and a poet called Donald yesterday. If you've read me for any length of time, you'd know that it's my kind of story.
It's a story about beauty, about discovering how to see it and being thankful for the gifts we are given - those kinds of gifts that form who one becomes over the course of a personal evolution.
Go read Selma's story here. It's called Artist in the Park. And it's the twenty-sixth beautiful thing in my thirty days of finding them.
Twenty-fifth beautiful thing – sweet girl and her extra special Easter dessert creation. Apparently the Easter Bunny's name is Steve. Who knew?
Standing up pine cones all around the neighbourhood. Find my explanation here. Can you give me a more feasible one?
Maybe the faeries stand them up because they think they're so beautiful. In honour of their hard work let's call the pine cones beautiful thing number 24.
Nick Lowe singing a song he wrote for some guy who used to be his father-in-law. (Oh, um yeah, that was Johnny Cash.)
Twenty-third beautiful find in the late winter/early spring thirty day search for such.
Beautiful thing sighting today: Two elderly ladies sitting on a bench at the mall waiting for a taxi. One has a walker. The other one reaches over and pats her forearm, not in a mild way, but with a robustness that comes with years and familiarity. Giving the arm a squeeze she leans in and nudges her friend with her shoulder and says something in Italian.
I don’t know what she said but the gesture said, “I love hanging out with you pal.”
(that'll be number 21)
How does it feel to start moving outdoors again? It's like your feet get itching after a few hours at work. You start to get claustrophobic. You notice people graviating toward doors and windows. You sneer at the angry drivers honking insults at one another. No wonder they're angry, they're stuck inside their cars.
You step out in the morning and your mood lifts. By the time you get to work you're already thinking about lunch hour – and not the lunch part.
Beautiful thing (#18) noted every lunch hour walk this week: shadows.
Maybe we should all be really thankful for winter if only because we get to experience such an appreciation for the onset of spring. My world is readying for the grand re-birthing of nature in all her glorious forms and we're celebrating already. Here are some moments of beauty from a sunshiny week in which sits the fifteenth day of thirty in posting such: