One tree, gloriously ablaze in this bush across the harvested field, peeks through a small opening to let the world know that it bows to the inevitable, the turning of the seasons.
I passed through the gate on my way to the car this morning. This work of art clung to the gate I could have glanced at it, said ‘neat’ and kept moving. Instead I stopped to admire and give thanks.
I rarely fail to smile when looking at our gaillardia. Cheerful, bright bursts of sunshine at ground level. Sometimes I get down to their level to better appreciate their beauty.