There is magic in the crisp autumn air and the leaves ablaze with crimson and orange.
There is an infinitely complex rhythm from the ten thousand drops of rain, battered and blown by the gales of a summer thunderstorm.
There is a a haunting beauty in the icey waters of a winter river.
Somehow I find it’s easy to miss these things in the grind. In the neverending quest for more, we may overlook the unbelievable gifts already given us.