Snowdrops have come up in clumps in the woods out back, poking up through the mat of last fall’s leaves. They’re hard to see at first. I have to stand still and look around. They most often appear near the bases of trees where I assume the soil is probably warmer. They’re unassuming little flowers, easy to miss. They’re well-named; except for their bright green stalks, they look like droplets of snow. I’m struck – not for the first time – by how much of what belongs in a woodland setting is camouflaged, initially invisible. This, in contrast to the visual noise of human environments, where so much is designed to compete for our attention in ostentatious display. It requires a shift in perspective to notice what’s going on when I'm out in the woods. A patient quieting of the mind, a willingness to embrace silence. A friendship with wonder.
Amy,
ReplyDeleteThis is beautiful. Reading it, what instantly came to my mind were the parallels between nature and humans: the differences between introverts and extroverts; being observant and open, vs wearing blinders and barreling through life.
I think many of us have felt camouflaged, initially invisible at some time in our lives. It's only when others can willingly embrace silence, shift their perspective, listen and really see the wonder of friends and God.