“Everything has beauty, but not everyone sees it.” – Confucius
I cross the bridge from which this was taken any time I leave or return to my neighborhood, which is, at the very least, 12 times every week. The things we see everyday sometimes lose their beauty to us. Or, we think that something that isn’t perfect isn’t beautiful.
For this creek, that holds true. I don’t even blink driving across the bridge, as I’ve seen it most of my life. Closer to the bridge and sporadically along the bank is a collection of garbage and litter from the residents–whether it’s been washed there from upstream or thrown there I don’t know–so this is not an idyllic, pristine mountain stream.
But, looking through my lens Sunday morning, while the neighborhood was quiet and most people were at church, it was beautiful. As I pressed the shutter I saw the beauty in the light playing on the leaves and the water, in the shadows, in the current and in the way the trees bend over the creek, in the color.
It’s all in the angle and the perspective we take, in our point of focus, the magic that takes something ordinary and makes it beautiful.