After living in a state park for three weeks, I am reminded once again that so much beauty is found in the outdoors. I have seen the tender sprouts of trees and forest vegetation magically morph from tiny chartreuse buds to floppy fans of a deeper shade. I was thinking the other day about the seasons of a tree's life and how in a few short months those same tender-green leaves will dry out, turn all shades of gold and red and orange, become brown and brittle, and fall to the ground where they will deteriorate into mulch and once again become one with the soil to be rich nutrients and life for the tree to repeat the process for the umpteenth time next spring. The circle of life. The amazing consistency of nature and her propensity to repeat the process season after season, year after year, decade after decade, has never ceased to impress this city girl who resides (at least for now) in the wilderness.
Maybe I'm just a romantic old lady at heart, but nature brings out the romance in me and the ability to look at things in a new way with a new perspective. Being out in nature inspires, soothes, comforts, and refreshes the soul and when done in daily doses gives one a much better outlook on the present challenges at hand, if not life overall. I've enjoyed watching the birds, squirrels, and an occasional resident kitty or two wander through the campsite and think about the beauty of God's creatures and how they don't worry about the future or, better yet, they don't even worry about the moment. I don't know if it's because they have the daunting task of hunting for their daily bread and have no time for the foolishness of worry or if they just inherently know that their maker will take care of them. Makes one ponder and we could all learn a lesson from our animal neighbors.
Which brings me to the yellow butterfly. Now, I would love (in my romanticism) to think that there is one yellow butterfly residing in this park that continuously accompanies me on my journey for my pleasure alone, but my logical mind reminds me that in the spring yellow butterflies abound and, truth be known, there are probably hundreds who reside in this wooded metropolis and call this park home for their short but magical lives. But more than once, and most times when I was wallowing in self-pity or my present plight, a yellow butterfly has approached me and, in her fleeting beauty and reckless abandon, reminded me that change is inherent in life and that new things will lead to new joys found and new peace and confirmation that everything will be okay. The butterfly to me has been a constant reminder of the fleeting seasons of life, and that I am to embrace change because change is almost always a catalyst for growth. But what are the odds that those yellow butterflies with all these acres to roam just happen to approach me like the warmth of a best friend when I need them most? You do the math.
So my journey continues and I have good days and I have better days, but the fear of I-gotta-get-outta-here crazy days has subsided and for that I am thankful to have fallen into some semblance of a rhythm. But on the occasional semi-crazy day that still tries to surface, I might be pressed to proceed to my next best tool (after nature-chasing) to bring the day into perspective...I make myself a triple-slice provolone grilled-cheese sandwich on whole wheat.
What can I say? Food is also one of my very best friends (along with J, quiet solitude, and ample sleep), and I don't see that changing any time soon.
Happy Wednesday, peeps!
"Be thankful for the little things in life..."
Posted by CC
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