Looking at the world around you, you can see all the wonders that surround you. The tall trees that fight for space in the small plots of land on which the city allows them to grow, the resilient trees that push up sidewalks and spread their roots into the streets. But have you ever looked even closer?
What I See.. In my yard grow many trees, get close enough to simply watch them grow, the intricate patterns in the bark which make a maze for all the little creepy crawly bugs to hide in. It reminds me of “The Borrowers” where these small people would hide among the trees and inside its mighty maze, living amongst the bugs. When you peel layers of bark off a tree and see the smooth trunk beneath, it is filled with an even more intricate maze design. I can just imagine these tiny people, moving through this se just as we walk through our homes. Around each bend would be another adventure. The ants would be ridden like horses, larger bugs treated like farm animals, or predators. They would use silk from spiders to make rope, some of the more skilled people would be able to tame the spiders.
Just imagine the possibilities that could be hidden among the bark of the trees in your own yard. All the secrets that could be hidden in the maze that is naturally created. What do you see when you look at things just a little bit closer?
The human eye is an amazing thing. it uses a series of camera-like lenses to filter light through the pupil to deliver a message to the retina which then sends those messages to the brain. Now if you have ever played a game of “Telephone” when you were young then you know from experience that this is no small feat. The fact that within our iris’ there are innumerable nerve endings that resemble the makeup of our universe, is just astounding.
What I See.. Behind these hazel eyes of mine is a story, a tale that has never been told to completion, and one that never will, either. What these eyes have seen is both the light and the darkness of the world of which I belong. behind the depths of my pupils lies all the sights that i have seen in my memory. the eyes of the overactive imagination are blurred with the lines of fantasy and reality. We who live in the creative side of the mind see the world in the brightest and the darkest of ways simultaneously. I look out through optics that change from brown to green and everything in between. Even though I see the same world you do, my perspective of it differs from that of 80% of the populace. I see the trees, just as you do. strong and growing, filling a forest. but in the emerald green of their canopy of leaves I see the glowing lights of the fairies that are carrying their seeds to the next place they are needed to be planted. with wings of glittering gossamer, and eyes of crystalline colors. I see the art in the museums, the brush strokes that make the canvas pop. but i also watch that same piece of art move and come to life before my eyes. I watch as the gentle breeze filters through the painted on grass and lifts the blades into the wind. I watch as the house in that same painting comes to life with a farm family going about their day. I dont just think i see it, I feel it, I believe in it. When your eyes take in the surrounding lights on a dimly lit street with only three lamp posts, I am sure that if you have fear, you think of the things that go bump in the night. The reality of those things, robbers, bad people with ill intent, But within the cogworks of the overactive imagination, I can see the glistening fangs of a hungry animal with glutinous yellow eyes, burning with a bloodlust that can not be quenched. I feel the hot breath of some ill intentful person who has a freezing cold and deadly sharp blade placed at my jugular vein. When your lines of fantasy and reality are blurred to the point of non-distinction then you too have the mind, and the eyes, of an overactive imagination.
So look into the eyes, see past them and into the soul. What do you see through your own eyes?
A pet is so much more than a responsibility, it is more than a chore. Pets are our friends. They know when you are feeling low, when you are hurting. They sense our fears and our worries and they know when we just need a hug. It’s all that warm and fuzzy stuff that I love about pets. But what do the pets see that make them know? Meet Timmy. My sisters cat, a ball of energy. I swear he can jump and touch the ceiling if we baited him with a laser.. Anyway! Here’s a day in the life of Timmy the Tom Cat!
What I See.. My humans are all asleep and I wander through the dark home as if it were my castle. The leading human sleeps with the loud dog, the boy is thankfully peaceful, and the girl is all curled up with her pillows. The other girl is in the garage. She shut the door and I can’t check to be sure she is safe, so I scratch and meow till I hear her yell at me. Once I know my humans are fine, I find my favorite bell ball and swat it down the hall and around the living room. I love to play at night. Every now and again I hear them move and I’m quiet for a bit, listening for them. I drift off to sleep and eventually I am woken up by the boy. He picks me up and gives me a snuggle. I don’t really like this..but he’s a harmless human, he just wants to be loved. So I let him cuddle me until I grow tired and I get away. The bigger girl is up next. Her I run from, but she gets me, picks me up and before I know it I’m lying on my back and being cuddled. I don’t really mind so much, they are gentle with me. I just enjoying being able to walk around on my own and not be picked up every few moments. The big girl is up, the one who sleeps in the garage. She pets me and plays with me. Every now and again she catches me by surprise and holds me, kisses my head and let’s me go. Strange human. The leader human puts them all in order and soon it is just me and the dog in the house once more. I love playing chase with the dog. I bop her on the head and she chases me around. We roll on the floor and have a blast. I watch the outside world from the window pane and long to roll in the grass. When the first person to get home finally gets here I stand by the door. Once it opens, I’m out! The feel of the warm sun and the soft grass, I jump right in and roll about in that lush grass. When I feel like it i go to the door and scratch at the bottom till it opens and then I lay on the sofa, completely content. Curling my tail around me as I drift off for a well needed cat nap.
What do you see behind the eyes of your favorite companion?
When I look at this word, I see the word Escape tucked behind the word nature. When I see the images that appear on screen when I type this word into any site that brings it up, I find some truly amazing piece of nature that I wish I could escape to. I found this latest image on Pinterest, as most of my photos are. Just by punching in the aforementioned word. What feelings jump to your mind when you see such an image? Where do you see yourself?
What I See.. Standing on the rim of the cave, looking down into clear, crystalline waters, I find myself shaking with both fear and delight. It’s not the first time I’ve jumped off the edge into the water, and it won’t be the last. However this is a new height, and it’s terrifyingly sweet. I know the rush from falling will take my breath away, the chill of the water will freezer me to my bones. I know it’s safe. This cave has been checked many times, there are no sharp rocks or anything to fear. I just have to make my legs work. I close my eyes, forget my surroundings and leap off the edge with a shout. I open my eyes as I fall endlessly into those gorgeous waters. Straightening my legs and crossing my arms at my chest as I was taught, I hit the water and shiver. The beauty of those clean clear waters assaults my senses. I bob up to the surface and wave to the friends of mine who are still on the rim, I swim away so they can jump. Oh the laughs to be shared when like minded people come together for a new adventure. We splash in the waters of that cave for a while, our bags are lowered down on a rope and we gingerly take them to the mouth of the cave. But my eyes scan the walls of the cave, they are rough and cracked, there are jutting ledges. I find myself itching to climb up those walls. I didn’t bring my belay or extra climbing rope. Only enough for a tether line as we crawls through the dark, damp cave and back into the hot sun. The cuts and scrapes I’ve acquired from this trip are well worth the adventure.
Where in nature would you escape to? Somewhere local you’ve never explored? A distant place you’ve longed to go? Search and discover!
It’s not a cat, nope, not a dog either! This lovely creature is a fox. What does the fox say? Well.. It’s not chacha-chacha-chacha-chow. Treated as a pest by many cultures for its habits of hunting. However.. If you have a large field of crops and want to keep the rabbits and mice away.. A fox is the best sort of hunter to have. Today, I’m going to take you under the fur of this majestic creature in a day of the life of the Fox.
What I See.. I open my amber eyes to the bright morning sun as it filters through the emerald canopy of the forest trees. The tall, untouched grass around me hides my bright orange fur from predator and prey. I rise to my paws and stretch my tiny limbs, tail lifting into the air. I sit still, my ears swiveling atop my head nose lifted as I scent the air deciding where my breakfast is coming from. My tail twitches in excitement as I sense the heartbeat of a small rodent downwind of me, roughly to hops away. Sinking low to the ground I pad quickly and quietly. I shuffle my back paws to meet my front and prepare to leap into the air to catch my unsuspecting prey. My muscles spring to life and I am airborne. I point my maw at the heartbeat I had sensed and aim my paws diligently. I land directly on top of my prey, teeth around its neck. I give it a quick shake and snap the neck. Breakfast is served. Cleaning the blood from my maw with licked paws, I decide to head to the lake for a drink. This is a dangerous act, my fur is bright and I stand out well. There are many creatures that like my scent, and I could easily become prey. Making my way through the thick underbrush I am constantly on alert for anger animals, especially the twolegs that have the loud killing sticks. Their scent boils my blood, it was them that made me an orphan. Finally I make it to the lake. Tentatively I step out into the open, not sensing any danger. I pad quietly up to the lake and lap up the cool refreshing water. I watch as a fish decides to swim rather close. Oh, it does look delicious. I lick my maw and eye the precariously perched branch coming from the water. I focus on the fish and leap up onto the bark of the branch. Aiming down I wait patiently for the prey to come to me. It swims closer..closer..almost.. I swipe the water with my paw, claws flexed to hook into the side of the fish. I lift it out of the water and clamp my jaws down on its hard scales. Carrying it to land I drop it. It wiggles and writhes and I can’t help but play. Pouncing on its tail as it flails across the ground. I keep swatting it around the small clearing until it finally lays still, out of breath, dead. My fun is over, but I am rewarded with lunch. With a full belly I return to the tall grasses and roll onto my back, sprawled out in the warm sunlight. Today has been a very good day. I let my eyes close as I drift off to sleep.my ear perk up and my head lifts to the distant but distinct sound of hunting dogs. I take no time to decide if they are following my trail or not. My instant thought is flee. I need to hide my scent. There is a patch of skunk weed not too far from here. I dash to it, rolling in it’s disgusting leaves that smell putrid. I then dash to my home, the fox hole beneath the old hollow tree of the owl. My home is close now and the dogs are distant. I curl up and hug my tail to my body. It is there I sleep.
The fox is a beautiful creature, hunted for its pelt, or sometimes just for fun. Animals die, it’s a fact of life, but needless killings for trivial reasons is just wrong. I met an old hunter once who had one rule. If you kill it, you eat it. He didn’t care what you shot. Weather it was bird, squirrel or large animal. But if you took that animal down, you were going to use it for meat. I agree to this way of thinking. What do you think of my fox tale?
When I’m riding along the path to work, I take this gorgeous route that leads over wooden bridges, through tunnels of trees, and meanders through a bustling city. It is my inspiration for writing.
What I See.. The dark black asphalt on a hot summers day seemed to radiate heat from every pore. The tunnel of trees that line either side do little to hide the path from the blistering sun. That blinding yellow which tells you which side you belong on as you ride down the seemingly endless path. As a writer, I find that writing stories is much like riding down this bike path. Sure there are plenty of scenic views you could look at, maybe even stop and stay awhile, but ultimately you have to keep moving until you hit the end of the road. When writers become authors they have taken a journey with a series of characters that has meandered up hills down steep slopes and perhaps even off the edge of a few cliffs. There is an adventure in writing that takes you from point a to point b, in a way where the character that begins the story is completely different when you end the journey. It’s the same when you ride down a twisting path to nowhere. You start off, simply excited to be out in the warm sun a cool breeze, then you’re panicking when you see the hill, completing the climb thrills you, because you know you can coast down hill soon. But it winds and bends and looks utterly terrifying. Reaching the bottom is a feat on its own, but you make it, you’re stronger, and you shine with confidence. The achievement of completing the first book, the first short story, perhaps even the first novel, is so overflowing that it takes you to a new level of content. I’m still riding my bike through the uphill battle of my first book, but every time I look up I see the cresting of the top, and can’t wait for the downhill slope.