Find Your Pretty

Let's not discuss my bedtime, shall we?  It's 1:38 in the AM and where am I?  Being constructive with my time.  Between my brother on the phone and Jeff Bridges in "Crazy Heart" my brain has been overworked and overstimulated.  Let's put it to good use . . . or nod off trying.

Train yourself to notice the pretty of the everyday.  It's a skill.  And, it's the gift that will yield returns on any given Sunday, Monday, Tuesday . . . you get my drift, yeah?

My neighbor often remarks on how, in the midst of an intense conversation, I will insert a delighted observation on the movement of the clouds against the tree tops or note the singular bloom on a clematis vine or exclaim at the sight of a perfect specimen tree tucked in the corner of one house or another.  She says I tend to notice things most other people walk right on by. 

I say that even when advancing along at a speedy clip, there is a need to pay homage to the microcosms in the midst of our vast personal universes of need and goings-on.  We are not complete without the elements within our settings.  They manage to both set our stage and exist regardless of whether we are there or not.  I don't mean to beat you into submission with existentialism or some such philosophical bent.  Merely, I point out that it is as rewarding to notice what's outside the box of Y-O-U as it is for what's in the box of Y-O-U to be noticed.

I noticed the pretty action of my teen daughter this afternoon.  After her second bout of practice for dance team try-outs at her high school, she called to say she and her friends would continue further rehearsing at another house where the bonus room was larger.  I was bummed because I'd rinsed and cut two healthy trays of fruit and veggies, plus picked up Sun Chips and Vitamin Waters, for the girls to enjoy before they practiced for a second time at OUR house.  But, I recovered and fed the fruit to my men and prepared to pack away the vegetables for another time.  Suddenly, a herd of wanna-be-dancers floods the kitchen.  My girl wanted to honor my efforts.  She and her friends did a bang-up job of that before leaving for their hours of step memorization.

Today, I absorbed the pretty of the serenely tall and beautifully blue first iris in my perennial bed . . . and the compassionate sacrifice of time by my growing-up girl. 

Find your pretty and look it over today.