A Matter of Perspective

 Getting up this glorious autumn morning, the sky was clear and a touch of frost kissed the grass in the shade.

 From the dining room I saw glorious liquid amber tree, its top half glowing against the pale blue sky. My whole body responded with an overwhelming sense of joy.  I grabbed the camera - but the first photograph I took did not show what I saw.

 Oh! I had not even seen the grey, collapsed sun umbrella!

 Another photo - Oh! I hadn't noticed the electric fence standard in the foreground, or the water tank on its stand, or the torn, green windbreak.

 And - look at the rough driveway.

I thought about how my mood and attitude colours my life: when I am low I see the flaws, the 'ugly', and fail to see the beauty and goodness in my world. When I am high I see nothing but the good and the wonderful and the joyful. The camera, however, just sees it all without judgement. And having written thus far, and looked at the photographs, I find that actually, I like that first photo best!

Two nights ago, I spent the evening listening to four amazing musicians playing jazz which filled me to overflowing with the sense of a world teaming with possibilities. In the darkened room, I watched a silhouetted triangle formed by the saxophone and the saxophonist's body, and inside that triangle, fingers so elegant and skilful - the bright, spotlighted hand of the bassist who stood behind.

The sight of that tree framed by the umbrella recalls both that music, and that sense of  limitless possibility.

It's all a matter of  perspective.