A little break from my rants against barbarism.
I’ve written about this before. Twice a year I go into the little village where I live and pay my insurance. I could set the payments up to be paid automatically through the Internet. I could go back to the traditional way and write a check and mail the payment in.
But there is something about maintaining a face to face relationship with your insurance agent who knows you by name, and asks about my latest travels and is interested in my grandson! A personal touch. I know lots about her now too.
Well, and it’s an opportunity to take some good advice: “Take time to smell the roses .” Or the purple flowers, in this case:
Behind the row of little small-town businesses, there is a back-alley type of parking lot. On the other side of that parking lot is this walkway. I noticed the lovely purple flowers and it made me think.
I knew this beautiful little river was there.
I actually pulled out of my parking place, then changed my mind, pulled into another parking place, shut off the motor, and got out of the car. It doesn’t matter if I’d be a few minutes late for . . . whatever.
The Spring air smelled wonderful, all perfumey with flowers and tree blossoms. A slight breeze rustled through the leaves and the tall grasses. It felt gentle out there. And it was beautiful with a natural, pure sort of beauty.
The little river has a series of rapids, all quite photogenic.
Worth the drive into town and worth the time it takes to stop and breathe in some incidental beauty.
There is a book called “The Evidential Power of Beauty.” I’m not a brute beast looking at this scene with indifference. I am human being, fully aware that this beauty is evidence of the Source of all beauty, and I’ve been created to recognize it.