Nature is personal

I see the beauty in the natural world around me. Usually I see it through a window, from my comfy perch inside. I wish I were a more lyrical writer. A better wordsmith. I could make you see the wonder in the everyday things that surround us.

Plunging your hands into wet dirt, heavy from the rain but warmed by the sudden sunshine. Watching a cat bathe hinself, primly and decadently all at once, with long strokes of his tongue and eyes closed as though savoring it. The dog, curled up and snuffling through her dreams. Squirrels chittering and scurrying, or sprinting with long bounds across the overgrown lawn. The bow wave of crickets and gnats that are disturbed with every footstep through the grass. The crimson delight of a cardinal speeding across the sky, or a dark murder of crows by the roadside.

Such little things that I observe through my front window are wonderful to me. It’s funny that I can appreciate nature as a thing of beauty and awe inspiring grandness, but I observe it all from the comfort of my front room or, if I’m feeling adventurous, my backyard.  Sweeping vistas are amazing, but I think I prefer the homier things. Seeing a bird’s nest high in the tree in our backyard, that kind of thing. I can’t really grasp the scale of a tropical rainforest, but I can appreciate the tree frogs that are found there. The Grand Canyon was a great, beautiful hole in the ground, but I loved the deer that were all but posing for pictures on the way in.

My love of nature is personal. I think everyone’s is to a degree.

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