When we were in Philadelphia recently I got all ooogly over the trees that border the Schuylkill River.  I don’t know what kind they are but I’m sure someone out there will enlighten me.  Their bark looks like dessert camouflage.  They have as many splotches and blotches as my aging skin.
When I got home and looked at the pictures, I realized that this tree looked just like the graceful hand of a dancer.  The tree picture was easy and quick to take.  It posed nicely and didn’t move.  But when I tried to recapture the pose using my own hand, it took me forever.  My fingers played just fine until I put the camera up.  Then they turned into spastic mutants with each digit having a mind of its own.  Boing!  Strait as toothpicks!  Nothing graceful about it, but if you don’t have the exact visual at least you’ll know what I was aiming for.

So today I’m grateful for seeing things. . . in a tree this time. . .and in my own hand which, apparently, has a mind of its own. 
 

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Friday, September 5, 2014

 

Today I am grateful for seeing things.  No, I don’t “see dead people.”  Not that I’d admit to, anyway.  But I do often look at something and find it looks exactly like something else.  It’s like the tomatoes that appear to be clearly male, or the picture of Jesus in a sweet potato peel, or the clouds that look exactly like my long deceased grandma standing at the table serving a turkey for Thanksgiving.  Okay, that last one might have been a Norman Rockwell painting.  I get confused.  But you get the picture.

 

 

 

When we were in Philadelphia recently I got all ooogly over the trees that border the Schuylkill River.  I don’t know what kind they are but I’m sure someone out there will enlighten me.  Their bark looks like dessert camouflage.  They have as many splotches and blotches as my aging skin.

 

When I got home and looked at the pictures, I realized that this tree looked just like the graceful hand of a dancer.  The tree picture was easy and quick to take.  It posed nicely and didn’t move.  But when I tried to recapture the pose using my own hand, it took me forever.  My fingers played just fine until I put the camera up.  Then they turned into spastic mutants with each digit having a mind of its own.  Boing!  Strait as toothpicks!  Nothing graceful about it, but if you don’t have the exact visual at least you’ll know what I was aiming for.

 

 

 

So today I’m grateful for seeing things. . . in a tree this time. . .and in my own hand which, apparently, has a mind of its own.