It's what happens when we really look...

"....He awoke unfailingly at six every morning and wandered down to the jetty to note the constantly changing aspect of nature. He noticed small things, particular things; the additional markings of a young deer that shyly appeared over the other side of the river, the last star to disappear at sunrise, (it was always the faint one to the right of the large oak), the miniscule erosion of the opposite bank as a new root became visible amidst the mud and sand. He opened my eyes to this subtle scene of change, and whenever I declared I was bored, he would march me down to the water's edge and make me describe all I could see in tones of enthusiasm and wonder, until my body again reverberated with the excitement of life."

I have read this over and over again. It's from When God Was A Rabbit, by Sarah Winman. I read it and I am down there with them, gazing out over the water, watching the amazing subtlety of the world unfold. And when I go outside here where I live, I breathe in, and then breathe in again, and look, really look, around me. Oh the beauty. It's everywhere. Even on this day of horribly warm temperatures, melting snow, dripping eaves, and a fog-enclosed valley. Beauty. And I'm grateful to Sarah Winman for reminding me.