Having indulged my desire to bask in this glorious fall weather, I sit atop the pile in my back yard that as recently as 36 hours ago composed my 70 foot tall pecan tree. A slightly noticeable dent in this enormous mound is visible today thanks to my father. After several hours of cutting and piling small branches into Dad’s 1981 Toyota long-bed pickup, I ended the afternoon’s work seated at the current tip top of the pile in a seat so perfect it’s as if God grew it just for me to enjoy sitting there today. How could I possibly pass up such a succulent opportunity to view the neighborhood from this higher perspective: trees in brilliant fall colors, sun low in the sky. As I soak it all in I feel a warm southerly breeze brush gently over my skin. I hear leaves gently rustling 360 degrees around me and I watch them dance, first in treetops down the street, then the yellow tree at my neighbor’s and finally through the boughs of my orange sweetgum. I simply must still myself and absorb this beautiful gift from my Heavenly Father.
I am reminded of countless October and November afternoons I spent as a teen sitting just as high as I could get up our tallest apple tree. Climbing toward my regular lofty perch I’d select the sweetest apples for my after school snack by observing the post-time-change setting sun render apple feet translucent.
How many times have I tried to catch in photo the experience of a golden fall afternoon? There is more to it than what the eye alone can sense and yet I have never been satisfied with what I could capture in even that one aspect.
This fall my husband and I have been privileged to travel all over Missouri for speaking engagements. On those drives I keep declaring aloud how I love Missouri, grinning ear to ear as we peak over a hill where yet another gorgeous stretch of landscape is revealed. I’ve given up trying to catch all that beauty in pictures as we speed along highways. Instead, I just watch with eyes wide open while I can. Before I know it we will be in Pohnpei, surrounded by the sea and snapping photos of exotic plants and flowers made possible by year-round hot and humid climate. While I bemoan my inability to capture in photo the full beauty of God’s creation, I am in constant amazement at the far superior ability of my own eyes to soak it all in with high definition.
I think the fault of my camera is that it doesn’t focus in the same way my eyes do. Eyes hone in on on whatever I put in the center of their vision. Everything else is relegated to background. Cameras focus equally on every object that is of equal distance from its lens. For that reason it is far inferior to my eyesight when viewing large scenes at a distance. My picture taken from a distance is nothing notable, but the same view as seen in person contains ever so many vibrant colors and textures combined as to fascinate me for hours. Switch from the grand scheme to a close up and my phone’s camera is amazing.
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder
I’ve heard all of my life the saying, “beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” That makes sense when I consider that it is the beholder alone who makes the choice where in any setting her focus will lie. In the panoramic photo I took from atop the pecan pile I could examine my deck and think, “man, I need to get a 2nd coat of paint on there,” or I can point my attention on intense orange and yellow leaves of all shapes suspended over every roof top in the neighborhood.
Today I am grateful for this opportunity to soak in an absolutely perfect fall afternoon, and I’m grateful also for the ability God gave me to choose where my eyes alight. In this moment I choose to be enveloped in the divine embrace of natural beauty so generously provided by my Creator. Thank you, Lord, for this golden opportunity.
To the Ends of the Earth 