In the late 70's my Mom and I lived at Oak Cove Resort as its off-season innkeepers.
Living in that magical place during my formative years did something to me. Shaped my core. Caused me to fall in love, day after day, with acres of woodlands, and the gorgeous Lake Cora that was our "front yard." Sometimes Cora gave fish. Sometimes she threw paddle-boat and canoe parties. And every winter she offered her strong icy back for us to skate on. TV and toys were just not that captivating... not when stacked against Nature.
A snow blizzard + dark blue mittens.
One day in my second-grade class, we were cutting out snowflakes. From what I recall, we had to fold white paper, and then draw and cut-out a complex geometric design on the top layer. When we unfolded our paper, each "flake" was so delicate and beautiful. Like lace.
Our teacher told us that "no two snowflakes are made the same." I looked out the window, at all the tall heaps of snow, and found her words really hard to believe. How could each flake be different when there were so many?
My school bus dropped me at that long, curvy road pictured above. Everything was white as white can be. And the falling flakes were huge. I held my mitten-covered hand flat, to catch and investigate them.
I held those flakes close to my face and watched. I let them melt, and get replaced by new ones. And it was true. I could see that each ice crystal really did look different. This might be unimpressive to some. But it was everything to me, seeing this outrageous display of creative genius.
"How full of the creative genius is the air in which these are generated! I should hardly admire more if real stars fell and lodged on my coat." (Henry David Thoreau)
Walking that road gave me my love for the tiny and the tender. Simple. Aliveness. Thanks for letting me reminisce with you. Below in the comments, I would love to hear a story about Nature somehow leaving an unforgettable impression on you. C'mon and share!