… I see that the life of this place is always emerging beyond expectation or prediction or typicality, that it is unique, given to the world minute by minute, only once, never to be repeated. And this is when I see that this life is a miracle, absolutely worth having, absolutely worth saving.
We are alive within mystery, by miracle.
- Wendell Berry, from Life is a Miracle: An Essay Against Modern Superstition (Counterpoint, 2001)
via Journal of a Nobody
And from the same source with thanks:
I think that this is true wherever you are - that the life of a place is always emerging. We may not all live on a beautiful plot of farmland, or be able to set up beside Tinker Creek, but where we are is enough if we are attentive to it.
Rob had cut this sunflower from our garden. We grow the poor things in terra cotta pots, which doesn't allow them to reach their full potential. And still they're beautiful, and perfect for his purposes.
When I came around the corner one overcast morning, it seemed the sunflower was looking down on its own pollen spill. Regarding the yellow tears from it's one big eye.
The slumping sunflower reminds me of something I heard on the radio not long ago. The host was talking about a recent study that states, slouching makes you sad. And I have to admit, I have terrible posture, and the last many years of my literary slump, haven't exactly helped me out in that regard. Which comes first, the sadness or the slouching? Bit of a vicious circle. I've talked about literarysadness in other posts, and I think slouching, in my case, anyway, comes out of that a bit. That state of mind.
Anyway. I've been trying to remind myself to stop slouching. Especially when at the computer. But it really is so very connected to a state of mind.
This was a test shot I took - to see if the settings on the camera were appropriate for the light level. And I ended up quite liking it. It seemed worth saving to me. Which is often the way with things we at first dismiss.