Brandi Willis Schreiber

Sensual, Southern Romance

Filtering by Tag: Lucy

Little Things

"Little things seem nothing,
but they give peace,
like those meadow flowers which individually seem odorless
but all together perfume the air." 
~ Georges Bernanos

It is so easy to miss little things.  Obscure to the eye - or, dare we say, unimportant, for noticing little things requires attention, patience, and slowing - little things are frequently ignored.  A little sparkle of light, a little insect, a little shift in the air or fragrance of a space, a little gesture:  these are often overlooked because our busy lives, or worse, by our attitudes.

Last weekend while walking Lucy, I noticed the big things in the park:  the cold; the edge of the playa that was dirty and murky with mud, trash, and dead leaves; the endless brown that is always with us in West Texas.  I was tired but knew I needed to walk.  Lucy was restless from being in so many cold days.  The holidays were over and there was only bleak January to introduce a whole new (and uncertain, I felt) year.  I was in a bad mood and miserably, pitifully, guiltily trampling over the little things that made up this bright and beautiful moment.

But when I walked around the side of this tree, something made me stop:  a bit of fluff on a branch.  I thought it was unusual, so I snapped a picture.  I couldn't see it well because the sun was in my eyes (blessed big thing), so I kept walking.

It wasn't until I got home and looked at the photo that I realized what I had captured.  A beautiful white feather, perfectly suspended on a bare branch with the morning sun streaming behind it.  A beautiful cold, crisp morning, full of possibility.  Another day.  A life with health and thought and companionship.  A chance to be.  If I had a dollar for every "forgive me" moment, I would be a millionaire.

Truly my personal purpose for this year is to see and appreciate, as best as I am able, all the little things that make up this great and glorious life and be thankful even for the cold and the brown and the murk and mud. I'm taking my cue from Sir Arthur Conan Doyle:  "It has long been an axiom of mine that the little things are infinitely the most important."

Bitterweed


Last weekend I decided to walk the Llano Estacado Nature and Wildflower Trails, a 3.5 mile path that winds through an archeological site.  This area was once a dependable source of water:  a natural spring lake with miles of shallow marshlands that attracted giant creatures and the native peoples who hunted them. 11,000 years later, what seems an unbelievable myth has disappeared into the ground and all that we see now are miles of hot, dusty earth and our ever-attempts to make sense of this place.


Alone in the heat, I thought about the irony of this wildflower trail and the bitterness of lost water.  


But as I kept taking pictures, I began to realize that even in the absence of water, life endures.  

It hardens, grows stronger and more brilliant. 

As I thought this, my shutter clicked and a coyote moved across a field.


Bloom where you are planted.  I can do this, too.

Flowers photographed include globe mallow, giant dagger yucca, prickly poppy, and bitterweed.  Lucy is photographed with slender stem bitterweed from our backyard.