It’s a Wonder-filled World

My third-born son and his daughter are off on an adventure this week. They are in New  York City to celebrate her thirteenth birthday. He decided a couple of years ago, when his oldest turned thirteen, that he would take each child (there are four of them) on an “adventure of choice” for that special birthday–just Dad and Kid. His son chose a rafting trip in Georgia and a Braves game. Pretty easy. Doable. A Guy Thing.


It’s a Wonderful Town!

When he asked his daughter back in the spring where she wanted to go for her birthday, she said, in her lovely, a-bit-melodramatic way, “Oh, Dad! I want to go to New York!” He was more than a little taken aback, I expect, but he’s worked hard to pull this trip together–a special time with a special girl who’s growing up fast. They do that, you know, these children and grandchildren. They seem to go from floor-walking  nights to terrible twos to first grade to “Where are the car keys?” overnight.

My son sent me a text message right after they landed in NYC. “She’s freaking out!” he wrote, which about says it when you’re in that city for the first time. They’ll see a play or two, take in the Metropolitan Museum, MOMA, and Central Park, Strand Books, and do some of the usual sightseeing.

Mostly, she’ll see a world that’s very, very different from hers, even though she’s spent most of her young life in Atlanta and Memphis–cities, but not cities in the sense of New York. Not colossal. Not stupendous. Not larger than life. I expect, knowing her sweet, caring nature, that she’ll be disturbed by the street people. That’s a hard dose of reality, but I hope, I pray it won’t overwhelm her wonder. Maybe it will become part of her vision of what her life can and will be, of how she can make a difference.

What a birthday! What a gift is wonder, tenuous and rare and without price.

But wonder is something we grownups often lose along the way. Disappointments, failures, loss, illness, betrayals–the big doses of reality keep our eyes to the ground, not like we’re looking up at the Manhattan skyline in amazement. I remember that feeling. I wasn’t thirteen the first time I saw the big city. I was in my twenties, but my “freaking out” was much like this child’s. Somewhere along the way, though, I forgot to keep looking up.

Re-discover Wonder!

Granddaughter Lucy at three

So here’s a tip for you, if you’re mired in child-rearing and work and housework and tending to elderly parents, if you’ve got your nose to the grindstone and don’t think you have time to look up. This applies especially to my writer friends who, regardless of age and stage, struggle to fit the writing into a “life happens” schedule.

It’s possible to re-discover wonder. You find it in the smallest things: hummingbirds hover at the feeder; something you’ve planted takes off and grows, blooms, yields fruit; music gives you goosebumps; the waves just keep on pounding the shore, timeless and immeasurable. You find it in your children (or your grandchildren), when you see reflections of yourself and their parents and your own parents, generations come together to make these remarkable individuals. You imagine their lives years from now, who and what they may become. It’s wondrous. Miraculous, really. And that’s just the real-life side of wonder.

Wonder on the Page

There’s wonder, too, when the voices come in your head and you put words on the page. When you re-create your own life experiences. When you make characters, lives, places, worlds. When you make the stuff of poetry. When you read your words aloud, new words that didn’t exist before you put them together just that way, and really hear them. Wondrous. Yes.

This child, my granddaughter, has the writer genes, for sure. She reads voraciously. She acts, she sings, she writes poetry. I encouraged her to take a journal with her on this trip. I’m hoping she’ll share some of her observations–her words–with me.

So happy birthday, Granddaughter. Life is wondrous indeed. It’s nice to be here.

Today, look up. Discover something wondrous in your world. Write about it. Read it aloud and hear your own voice. Tell me about it here.

Weekly Photo Challenge: Summer

Ah, an easy Weekly Photo Challenge!

I’ve taken hundreds of beach photos over many years, mostly of our favorite beach, Cape San Blas, Florida, a place so special I almost hate to reveal it here.

Beaches at the Cape are a departure from others along the Alabama coast and the Panhandle of Florida. The Cape boasts no high-rises and no street lights, few restaurants and shops. This is not the place to go if you like fancy food and nightlife (although tiny Apalachicola, about thirty miles away, has terrific restaurants). Sea turtles nest on these beaches, and the beach patrol comes by every morning, identifies new nests, and marks them off with yellow tape. Moonless nights are the darkest dark you can imagine. You can look out to sea and see the lights of shrimp boats trolling. You can look up and really see the stars. You can sleep with the windows open and hear the sound of the surf. Every day brings a spectacular sunset.

Summer before last, we found blue crabs in abundance. We caught a bucket full, cooked them, picked out the meat, and feasted on fresh crabcakes.

And the birds . . . And the shells . . . I could go on, but I won’t. I’ll let the Cape speak for itself.

First, a walk on the beach at sunset. Then a bucket of blue crabs, almost—I say almost—too beautiful to eat!

Sunset, Cape San Blas, Florida

Sunset, Cape San Blas, Florida

Blue crabs in a bucket

Weekly Photo Challenge: Unfocused # 2, Armstrong Redwoods

Armstrong Redwoods in the rain

There seems to be no new Weekly Photo Challenge posted for May 11, so I decided to post one on my own.

This photograph, taken in the Armstrong Redwoods State Natural Reserve in northern California, isn’t exactly unfocused, but it was taken in light rain, which gives it an ethereal quality, I think. I felt so small, walking among those trees in the rain. Their majesty and longevity are overwhelming. Yet, here and there, I saw giants fallen. They eventually succumb to time as everything does.

It’s pouring rain here in Mississippi this morning, a gloomy, chilly day for May, which may account for my mood. The rain reminds me a little of that day in the Armstrong Redwoods, but the photo also reminds me of the setting for the novel I’m working on: forest land of the deep South, not majestic, but dense and wild and hiding secrets.

If you need some inspiration today, and if it isn’t pouring down rain where you are, go somewhere. Get out in the natural world. If it is pouring, or if for some other reason you’re stuck inside, take time to look at photos you haven’t seen in a while. Find something you never saw before, I mean really saw, and let it inspire you.

What in the natural world inspires you? Do you have a favorite place that brings out your creativity?