I took a walk in the park at the edge of a Canadian city just before Christmas.
In the middle of the suburban wilderness, I came across a lone deciduous tree, a stone’s throw away from a nearby thicket.
Someone (Santa’s elves perhaps?), had decorated it with Yuletide exuberance and a motley collection of bits and bobs.
Whoever it was hauled multicolored baubles, strings of beads, several stuffed birds, a blue garland, and various other Christmas curios quite a distance, never guessing the images thereof would travel even further afield (worldwide in fact) via this blog.
I wonder if the elven-or-otherwise decorators chose the little tree because it looked forlorn standing alone. Regardless, once bling-ified, its Gretel-thin branches were funky and purposeful in their festive livery, and its single heart beat bright and bold against an impossibly blue sky.
The little tree and its finery made me smile.
When I revisited a few days later, the sky was more subdued. The little tree’s blood-red heart swayed softly, dusted with new-fallen snow and bruised by my muted reflection in its side.
Again I smiled. Just as I am now.
That’s what joyful discoveries during wilderness walks make you do – sometimes long after you have left them behind.
See for yourself. You never know what you might find…