[Askoga]: 89.Snippets.Artist's View

I step out and pause, awed. I see the world as though for the first time, suddenly through an artist's eyes. I am assaulted by colors, shapes, textures—beauty all around me. The street stretches out before me, and again behind me as I step forward for a walk. It cuts through the trees, houses, and other beauties, as a river cuts through a hillside. As I walk I see curves and lines, here the steady brush of a tree trunk, there a wild splash of color. A black plum tree stands out in its dark purple, and the snap dragons stand tall and proud in their brilliant dress of color. A naked trunk reaches up toward the sky, and high above me I see the fanned lines of a palm's leaves.

I chuckle as I continue on, spotting another naked form. This one, though, is not a tree, though it would pretend it was, the lamppost stretching through the boughs of an evergreen in an effort to blend in. And to the other side is a scene to make any artist proud. I admire the little house framed by greenery and bright flowers. The shadows are just right, softening the harsh edges of the house, the splashes of color to alleviate the varied greens and browns. The walls blend in, a soft yellow color that's gentle on the eyes.

I continue on my walk, wonder coursing through me. How could I have missed the art, the splendor of the world around me? I feel as though I have awoken from a slumber of monotony, stepped away from the drudgery of life to see a completely new world. I wonder if this is how a bear feels waking from hibernation in the spring, seeing a bright new world around him. And I wonder, too, if this is how artists see all of their waking hours. Oh, to be able to see like this all the time!

And as I walk, I think to myself that I will never again think of the world around me in the same way. Indeed, I hope that I will always see these colors, textures, shapes, these wondrous beauties that surround me.