I like looking at things that are tall. When I walk, I look at the treetops (which is sometimes hazardous to my feet), and I look at the mountains. Though I love them both, the mountains provide the best food for thought. There is mystery there. In spite of all the expert climbers who have ever climbed, I am convinced there are places that no human foot has touched. I imagine treasures there, known only to the birds — a rare blossom rising from a crag in the rocks, a hidden cave that glistens with veins of gold, a hidden spring, a strange creature never previously seen.
Beyond their physical mystery, mountains remind me that there is so much more to life than I am able to discover or grasp. There is so much more in this world that I will never know. This is a source of abiding joy for me. Life is inexhaustible. There is always more. There is always hope. There is always God.
In the mountains, the wildflowers are sprinkled sparingly here and there. On my morning walks over the past few days, the ones I have spotted have been mostly yellow. They remind me to pay attention and appreciate the little gifts in life that are easily overlooked.
A notable exception to the yellow was the blue beauty pictured below.
Back in the mountains at last. I saw a few wildflowers on my morning walk, but today the variety of greens in the forest undergrowth captured my imagination. I have rediscovered my childhood wonder at all things that appear out of the ground. I’m too lazy to research their official names, so I have given them names of my own. Pictured below from left to right: Faux 4-Leaf Clover, Sand Dollar Weed, and Carrot Tops.
In the mountains, my husband and I have a small vacation townhome. The patio is just large enough for a table with an umbrella, four chairs, and a few flower pots. The ponderosa pine just beyond the gate is the main attraction, but even here, I must have a little garden. When I came back this time, to my delight I saw that my neighbors had kept my petunias and marigolds alive in my absence. Good neighbors are so precious.
On my first day back as I was sitting on the patio, a bee appeared out of nowhere and buzzed around my head several times. It was clearly angry, and it was clearly trying to chase me away, but I held my ground. At home in the garden I move among the bees as they pollinate the flowers, and they never seem to mind my presence. However, this mountain bee was seriously upset, even though I was minding my own business. The next day on the patio, it returned and buzzed around my head again, but not as many times, and not for so long.
I haven’t seen it since. It has apparently accepted me as a neighbor.
Back in the mountains, I took my morning walk in search of wildflowers. It was slim pickings, since the tall grasses along the pathways had been recently mowed. I managed to find the delicate beauties pictured above and below.
Although I had walked this route many times, until this morning I had barely noticed the bird houses that someone crafted and attached to the chain link fence along the path. Each one was carefully placed under a tree to provide shade for a fledgling family.
The occupants had long since flown into the wild blue yonder.
This week I am up in the mountains. At home, my husband is faithfully watering my plants. This morning when I called, he had just finished watering the courtyard. He had lingered for a moment, and he remarked how nice everything looked.
This morning as I walked in the mountains, I was enjoying the scent of the pines and the cool morning breeze. It took awhile before I began to notice the blossoming weeds that periodically graced the edges of the path. How often do I miss the small treasures in life because I am focused on the big picture? I have a feeling that each little blossom is as cherished by God as the towering Ponderosa.