Folks who regularly read my blog posts know that I see beauty and worth in many things, sometimes the mundane. Things or occurrences that many disregard I sometimes see as worthwhile. Ignored (for lack of a better word at this moment) ugliness I see beauty in.
Last week, I joined my daughter Stefanie on one of her freelance writing assignments when she visited a 30-acre nature area with carefully mapped out paths for walking and identifying flora specimens. A volunteer of the facility took us on a golf cart tour of the area, pointing out significant flowers, plants, trees, and unique areas of the property, while at the same time answering all of mine and my daughter's questions. I disagreed with one thing she said though, although I didn't tell her this. As we moved slowly along, she referred to an area where some bushes were half eaten by deer, and underneath some nearby bushes were old, brown, and rusty colored leaves that nature, change of seasons, and time had not removed from the landscape, nor does it appear that the staff had made the effort to do the same. Our guide said (not verbatim), "Eh, there's nothing interesting over there." I beg to differ with her. While the property is home to things that, most certainly, are beautiful and have their specific importance, the undisturbed leaves are, for me, even truer nature. They leave (no pun intended) me with questions: How long have those leaves been there? What does their remainder mean to the earth, and to the nearby plants? I assume botanists, avid gardeners and, yes, members of the staff at the location could provide those answers. The "forgotten" nature, the downed and dead leaves, reminded me a few years ago of a yard project I embarked on with my wife's blessing. In fact, if memory serves me correctly, she may have spearheaded and encouraged it. While 99% of our property was mowed and maintained, I allowed the remaining 1% to grow wild and accumulate "stuff": old leaves, high weeds...whatever true manicured lawns are most often devoid of. I separated this area with an old piece of wooden gardening fence that a neighbor had trashed. I let the area "sit" and "live on its own." In the fall, I mowed the area and mirrored the rest of the yard for the colder months. It was different. That, and its natural beauty, made "nothing much" pretty darn good looking. I'll close with this, which is part analogous. A few weekends back, the Wall Street Journal published an article about visiting inns in the summertime and how, when one visits, on-site literary collections for perusal are often titles which are well known to readers. However, the writer also mentioned that at some spots, you'll find volumes that are unknown, gems forgotten (and I assume gathering dust). Well worth it, I suppose, is taking the time to really read into and see what's offered. Kind of like those old, deceased leaves, many side-by-side or on top of others, forgotten or ignored by people and time. Steve
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Steve Sears is a New Jersey based freelance writer
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