Extra-ordinary

This was supposed to be a blog post about how to recognize your own creative prowess. And then I took a walk in the (light) snow, and everything changed.

I confess, I was walking in the snow to get to the little podunk corner Kosher bakery in our neighborhood for a Friday morning treat.

Although I’m only part Jewish, turns out a hefty piece of fresh-baked Kosher raspberry crumb cake CAN be a religious experience. But that’s neither here nor there; the point is, I was walking in the snow.

It was blustery: the cold wind burning my cheeks, a not-so-soft-guarded coat collar scraping my chin, precipitation blowing into my eyes, my nose running, and my hands too cold to even activate the touch screen on my iPhone. But I didn’t care one wit. I was too arrested by the way the slight dusting of snow was turning everything ordinary into extra-ordinary, more of its own self.

Instead of feeling the wind, I saw the shapes of the bare trees:

and the geometric juxtaposition of pipes and fences:

and the flaming contrast of the deep red twig Dogwood against the other muted winter colors:

and the snow-specked black dog racing in exuberant circles (even ON leash!) in the park, because “he’s so happy about the snow!” his owner delightedly explained (sorry, no photo… I was too taken up in the moment to reach for my camera)

and the random mosaic on an otherwise nondescript wall, reminding me of the splash of beauty my mosaically-inclined nieceling adds to my life: