Tonight Peter and I went to the Blue Fox Cafe for supper. The Blue Fox Cafe is the restaurant where we ate lunch when we came out to Victoria in November. Tonight, we even had some sweet downtown parking… but as it turns out, the Blue Fox Cafe is a breakfast and lunch spot; we had to find somewhere else to go.
So we drove around a bit and we found this Greek/Italian restaurant, the name of said restaurant I forget. We had a quaint window seat. And after I had decided on what I would order and Pete was still perusing, I happened to look out the window. All that I saw was beauty. Outside the window was a huge tree with pink blossoms blossoming in the spring weather, lit up from the restaurant’s lights, with a royal blue sky, rich and deep, visible through the branches. This may sound very normal, like nothing special, but you really should’ve seen it. I was/am so upset that I didn’t have my Canon with me because it would have made a really spectacular print. Wonderful. I sat there watching it as the sky darkened slowly, slowly until the image was gone.
“The trouble with you and me is we are used to what is happening to us. We grew into our lives like a kernel beneath the earth, never able to process the enigma of our composition. Think about this for a moment: if you weren’t a baby and you came to earth as a human with a fully developed brain and had the full weight of the molecular experience occur to you at once, you would hardly have the capacity to respond in any cognitive way to your experience. But because we were born as babies and had to be taught to speak and to pee in a toilet, we think all of this is normal. Well, it isn’t normal. Nothing is normal. It is all rather odd, isn’t it, our eyes in our heads, our hands with five fingers, the capacity to understand beauty, to feel love, to feel pain.” – Donald Miller in “Through Painted Deserts”