It was our annual “fall walk.” The walk I take with the kids when the leaves have turned colors. We gather leaves to send to Grandpa and Grandma, who live in Florida. I take pictures of the kids walking and collecting and holding up their favorite leaves, with the intention of sending them to my parents as well (notice I said intention…more often than not, neither the leaves nor the pictures actually make it there; it’s the thought that counts, right?!).
My eyes are trained, during these walks, to find perfectly shaped leaves in bright bold colors of reds, oranges, and yellows. My eyes are also looking for those “Kodak moments” of catching my kids looking especially adorable as they search. Camera and leaf-collecting-basket in hand, I’m on a walk full of purpose and good intentions…my purpose and my intentions.
On this particular walk, I noticed something different. Something I wasn’t looking for, but it captured my attention. A garage. A small, white, dilapidated garage. A small, white, dilapidated garage with a red-leafed vine sprawled across it. It was charming…not stunning, not take-your-breath-away beautiful, but charming. Like a picture from a postcard.
I am by no means a photographer. My point-and-shoot camera is merely a memory catcher with the sole purpose of taking pictures of my children and family. I rarely take pictures of scenery…it’s the people I’m after. But I wanted a picture of this. So I took one.
We finished the walk. We found pretty leaves. I took lots of pictures of my kids. I may or may not have sent them to my parents. I did fill a bowl full of our pressed leaves as our kids’ contribution to my fall decor. And I’ve got the “Kodak moment” pictures to add to a scrapbook (someday). Mission accomplished.
I still have the picture of the vine-covered garage saved in my computer files. As I skim through family pictures to print or post on facebook, I often stop to look at that picture. I sometimes wonder if I should print it…but then what? Frame it? The garage itself has no significance to me. And there are many other nature pictures out there that are far more beautiful, stunning, and even charming.
I wonder why I like it so much. Maybe it’s symbolic. Beauty in the simple things and where you least expect it. Maybe it’s a reminder to notice. Notice the little things around me. How many autumns had I driven past that same scene, and never noticed it? Maybe it’s a reminder to capture something. Capture something so that I will remember it. Would I still be thinking about that garage eight months later, had I not taken a picture of it? Maybe it’s a reminder to ponder and think and question the significance and value of something.
Notice, ponder, capture, remember…
I want to do more of all of these things as I live my life. Maybe this was God’s little postcard to me.