The Golf Course behind the apartments here at Colonial Homes have been a constant and consistent place of awe.
The way the sky plays with the tops of the trees, the subtle color in the faithful leaves, and the amazing textures in the earth form an Eden of visual pleasure. Not lying, every time I drive by there I fall in love again.
It’s a love that is predicated on the beauty of the view, but a love that I cherish as it continues to resurrect itself.
So Saturday- 6 days after the ‘snow storm’- I went out to soak in the beauty, and to capture, in as much as is possible, the glory of the view.
It was a chilly afternoon, but the sun was perfect, and the trees were begging for me to join them and bask in warmth of the light.
As I was ‘snapping’ away, this vantage point of the golf course was new and intimate. I had always given the trees in the center all of my attention. They were, to me, the epitome of the beauty in this place, and then I saw these trees, in this space, singing a song I hadn’t yet heard.
If I had left before capturing the immaculate texture of the earth, I would have walked away empty. Immaculate in the sense that in all of the darks and lights, and lines and shapes, and the crazy randomness, everything worked together in a perfect collaboration of beauty.
As I walked back to the house I laughed. On the one side of the street there was ice everywhere, as if the snow storm had come in the night before, and on the other side was green grass and warm reflected light. I laughed.