More Than Enough

A long time ago, a friend of mine remarked that you can see things more clearly in the late autumn and winter.  She said that the contrast of empty, colorless landscapes makes anything vibrant stand out that much more.  There's a focus you gain when you find yourself in stark places.

I like that.  I like that because when it looks desolate, maybe it's because there's something I'm supposed to see. 

Yesterday, I leave my house to walk to pick the girls up from school.  It's 2:15 PM, and here I am, trudging through my own bleak landscape.  I take my camera because I'm learning photography.  It's nearly winter.  Few leaves hang on the trees like lovers not ready to depart.  There's a desperation in the air and a sadness as I crunch all these dead leaves under my feet.  Everything mourns.  But then, I remember the feature on this old camera called "Digital Macro."  I fumble with the camera, punch the button, and look around--differently this time.

Glorious Acorns

I'm exploring with hope on this mile walk to school.   Two acorns survived the fall from their tree, and as the sun shines through the bare trees, I lay down on the path and take a picture. 

I rest a minute in the stillness of it all.  It feels like flair to be a grown woman stretched out on her stomach on the ground like this with her hands propped up to steady an old camera. 

What else can I find out here?  What beautiful thing awaits?

All of a sudden, the view isn't barren.  It's absolutely abundant. 

Autumn Berries of Richest Red

This grim landscape has gifts to offer. 

And even in the starkest landscape, there's more than enough.

Yellow Berries with Blue Sky