The Oaks Painted the Sky

 I walk a fine line between two worlds.  The world of "responsible individual, with many things that need to be done" and the world of the "person who takes the time to observe things that evoke feelings of awe, wonder and gratitude."

You see, I value both worlds.  I like to meet my obligations and I feel some pride in work that I do and tasks that I perform.  I recognize the value of responsibility, consistency, and real effort.  I also believe that it is extremely important to take the time to recognize beauty in nature, artistry created by talented humans, and peace that comes with observation and reflection.

The difficulty here is that I often find conflict between the two.  There are many times on the farm that I have work to do and I just need to concentrate and get it done.  But, as I go about my tasks, a butterfly floats by and the sunflowers nod at me as they weave a lazy pattern in the breeze.  I find my steps slowing as nature tugs at me to take a moment and just appreciate the world around me.

Then, there are those moments where I purposefully give myself a chance to just be - to give myself a chance to really feel what the wind has to say, or listen the birds as they train their young to navigate in the world.  But an internal time clock keeps telling me that this is irresponsible.  There are things to do.  People are relying on you.  You are wasting time that should be spent accomplishing!

Our elder Oaks on the farm took a moment to teach me a lesson when they noticed me trying to hurry myself up at a time when I'd actually got the camera out because I thought the sky was interesting to look at.  They reminded me of contrast, and how it helps you see the beauty of very different things.  

"A picture of the sky - and only the sky - might be ok," one of the oaks whispered to me, "but come over here and watch us paint the sky for you."

This is remarkable, because the oaks don't talk to the farmers much at all.  They have even chided some of our younger trees for doing just that.  Don't get me wrong!  We do hear the oaks talking frequently, but they rarely direct their slow, patient words to us.  After all, we've barely been on the farm long enough for them to notice.

Perhaps my habit of saying hello to them when I go out to check the mail each day is finally breaking the ice?  Whether that's the case or not, the oaks were right.  They painted the sky with their shadowed leaves and branches and the sky looked deeper, richer and so much more fascinating.

And for a few moments, I forgot I had things I needed to do.  I took a few pictures and then I just soaked it all in.