Galoshes

There’s this swamp up at my cabin.  When we were little we used to walk down the road, which seemed to be over a mile each time, in our little sneakers and stunted legs.  Stopping at the swamp “a turtle!!”, picking wildflowers that seemed more beautiful to the eyes we had up there than in a store.  But I guess that’s the thing about creation. A photo and some shelves can never fully capture the feeling of being in a space so lovely, so full. The colors seem endless in the air.  As though if you threw on your galoshes in the middle of summer, the sweaty feeling in your feet, ankles, would never match the awe of picking at little bugs in the dirt; watching fireflies dance; smelling flowers growing out of a solid fixture.  

I love this about creation.  The discovery never ends. The change never slows.  It’s never boring outside. I’ve been going to my cabin since before I can remember and it looks different every time I’m there.  Not the space necessarily but what’s inside it. And the feeling is the same yet different each time. Always comfort, always freedom, but a different quality needed for a soul.  I think nature does that to people. It allows them to be creative in a space that is limitless; that says “try it!”; that laughs at the bugs instead of poking them dead; that encourages eyes upon them.  

And that’s what I find so fascinating about outside: that it can always hold more than enough eyes on it and never will it waver in its original design.