Ice

Yesterday, the ice in the trees was breathtaking. The sun came out and shone upon them all, and the frozen twigs and branches sparkled in an unreal, almost mystical way. It was almost like watching spring happen early. A miniature spring, in fact, was happening: sunlight thawing the trees' fingertips, life forces swirling underneath the bark, stirred to awakening by the temporarily-forgotten sensation of warmth. A long winter's nap, disturbed until the next ice storm passes. Yet to a tree, this time is short. A brief opening of the eyes from slumber, only to see it is not yet time to wake.

There is a beauty in these slower processes which also exists in the faster ones, but those we overlook because they pass so quickly. We can sit and watch a sunset over a lake or mountain, but can we also gaze in awe upon the beauty in a passing stranger's eye? Someone dancing for a few seconds to a song without a care in the world; a drop of water landing in a puddle; two long-lost acquaintances embracing; a single stalk of grass swaying in the wind; a warm handshake from a new acquaintance; a laugh from across a coffee shop; a snowflake landing on your windshield, giving you a glimpse of a once-in-a-lifetime uniqueness before it melts away forever. These quick moments hold just as much beauty as anything else. They are just easier to miss.

Peace.