One of the things I miss most about the Pacific Northwest is the fall. Fall in Portland is vibrant, showy, inescapable, and oh, how I loved it. Fall in Berkeley is far more subtle.
You won’t find it on every street. The trees bear their autumn colors with far less pride and flamboyance.
You find it, instead, in the smallest details. And so lately, I have been trying to pay attention.
To the way that light and shadow play on a November day.
To a single bright flower.
Or a few vibrant leaves.
And I found that as I began to notice these lovely little details, they began to make themselves more apparent to me, until all the world seemed to burst with detail, finely etched and vibrant.
It is a very different kind of beauty than the opulent trees of my hometown. But this kind of beauty is, I think, no less powerful, and perhaps in some ways, even more so, than the kind of beauty that can’t be overlooked or ignored.
For these small, precious things require a second glance, a double take, a bit of extra attention in order to be truly seen. And like all small, precious things, they are worth the effort.