For the last few days, I’ve had sporadic urges to stop walking in the middle of various sidewalks and stare up at the trees like an idiot.
…at least people look at me as though they’re questioning my intelligence when I’ve got my eyes above the horizon line. Maybe that’s an unfair assumption about what they’re thinking, though. They’re probably much more understanding than they seem.
This morning, it was about 35 degrees outside when I walked past a Japanese maple tree on the way to engineering class. Something about the texture and color of the burgundy-brown mini maple leaves compelled me to stop and stare.
I stood on the sidewalk near the building’s entrance as other students from class filed by. If I had been staring at a cell phone, no one would have looked twice. But I was looking up, thinking textures, colors, shadows, and lace against a cold blue sky. Like an idiot.
“You know, it’s colder in the shade.”
“There’s… a heater on inside, Steff.”
“What, is there a possum in the tree again?”
*freshman with thick-rimmed glasses raises eyebrows and shakes head*
*freshman with a parka carefully steps over cracks in sidewalk, obliviously walks into me*
“You could always take a leaf inside and enjoy it there…”
I couldn’t bring myself to disturb the scene by taking even a single leaf out of it. A big gust of wind blew, though, and for a few seconds I was part of the picture in front of me. It snowed burgundy mini-maple leaves. Later, over an Excel spreadsheet, I found a leaf that had hitched a ride in the folds of my scarf.
I feel like I’m thinking along the lines of the romantic poets I generally despise, but they might have been on to something.
This world the Lord has made–it’s so beautiful.