I live on the border of suburbia. Not quite a city boy, not quite a country boy. Granted, I work in the big city, but the place I call home is quite literally on the fringe of suburbia. If I had a north window and you looked out of it, you would see town homes, houses, traffic, and construction sites. If you look out the south window, you see farm land and a few scattered houses. Now that I think about it, my childhood home was the same way. To the east was the grand city of Faribault. To the west, the country.
Can someone be drawn to such divides...not just the geographical, but the social and political and the spiritual? Is it possible that the chemistry and spirit that make up my body and soul were melded in such a fashion that I do not plant my foot on either mountain, but rather, settle in the valley between?
I suppose things are not always so in-between, but it's interesting how the things we were often so sure of as a child--our good friends, our ability to trust blindly, what we like, what we are good at, what we want to be when we grew up--often turn out a little fuzzy as adults. Does growing wiser really require that our ability to so easily choose must be sacrificed? Or is it a sign an opening mind?
2 comments:
You recognize the value of shadow. It makes photos more interesting and life more frustrating.
Your Colorado (I take it) photo reminds me of the cloud shadows on the ground at higher elevations on sunny days. Each so distinct--it's own little ship charting its own course.
We may have a rainy day tomorrow, but I'm still taking the day off to go to Pella's Tulip Time. A thunderstorm will REALLY put me in the mind of the Netherlands!
motherbaumert
Kids that age can surprise you and rise to the occasion. I'm reminded of the scene in "The Music Man" where the kids are playing by the "think" system and a mother shouts out, "That's my Barney over there!" There will be audience and performer pride. And I hope plenty of thanks for you!
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