I do, anyway.
Whenever I leave my comfy little house, full of all the familiar things I love, in a city I've lived in since I was 3, I expect that I'll find new things--new shops, different people, possibly clothes I've never seen before, etc.
In my old age of 30, I've recently started looking at horticulture. With all the hoopla about local flora and fauna and preserving ecosystems, I've realized that I actually don't recognize a great deal of indigenous flowers or plants. Mostly I only recognize whether or not they're tagged by Lowe's or Home Depot.
Ahem, so anyhow, when I and The Hubby went on our little camping trip to Center Hill Lake this past weekend, I had my eyes peeled for new and interesting greenery.
There were the usual bushy cedars and firs, along with ferns, dandelions, etc. But then there was this little purple flower.
I kept noticing it in the oddest places--at the base of trees, in modest clusters off the path. It was usually hidden, normally alone or in tiny groups, and absolutely adorable. I snapped a photo, pleased that I had the pleasure of getting to see some such new little treasure I had never seen before.
After we returned home, I went for a run on a back road, framed by farms and homes that have been there for forever. As I ran, I noticed some clusters of Queen Anne and dandelions....and at their edge a huge bunch of the purple flower.
I run the road at least once a week. And I had never seen the purple flower before.
I had to laugh at myself, but at the same time it was a great reminder of why travel--near or far--is essential. When we get so stuck in our ruts that we no longer expect to be surprised in our day, when everything becomes wrote and normal and just part of the usual fare, we start overlooking the beauties, the truth, the delicate mysteries around us, woven into the normal. It may be that they're not even hidden, just sitting out in the open, waiting to be noticed.
This picture, that flower, is a good reminder for me to notice.
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