One of the things I love about living in the Twin Cities is access to so many hiking trails within a short distance from our home. Yesterday, Dave and I spent a couple of hours hiking some trails in the Carver Park Reserve (a mere 15-20 minutes from us). The sun was shining, the trails meandered through woods, lake and marsh areas.
What fascinated me most yesterday were the cattails and marsh grass. Standing slightly above the marsh, I could look over at a broad expanse of the cattails and grass as they moved with the wind. Different areas moved in slightly different directions and at seemingly different paces. Yet somehow it all seemed to work together. I was watching a visual symphony; that is the phrase that came into my head as I stood there and i can’t think of any better way to describe it. To be sure, I love the sound of wind moving through trees and grass. (For me, it is right up there with the sound of running water.) But yesterday it was the visual, not the auditory “sound” that transfixed me. The beautiful whole created by the varied parts.
I tried to capture it on video, but it was impossible. If I stood from where I was watching, the image it too far away for you to see it. If I moved onto the boardwalk that puts the cattails and marsh grass at one’s fingertips, I was too close to capture anything but the grass just in front of me.
But perhaps some experiences are not meant to be captured on video. They are just meant to be enjoyed in the moment. And, of course, you can always take a walk over to the Carver Park Reserve and catch of showing of the Visual Symphony yourself. There, as everywhere, “the world is charged with the grandeur of God.”