The stars and moon are shrouded by clouds. Sounds of a banjo playing leak from the barn. Sunday night. My husband’s smile. “The cows make more milk on bluegrass,” he says.
I step from the barn and a few stray sprinkles of rain dance across my skin. They are cool. I smile into darkness.
The music behind, the glow of the lamp in my kitchen window ahead. My steps slow and I enjoy the breeze that keeps the windmills of Tug Hill turning year-round.
My smile widens. The fields are glittering. With clouds covering moon and stars, the darkness creates a symphony of sparkles that spin gold into hay fields.
I wish for a way to capture such beauty with a camera lens. But it’s impossible. Fire-flies are a beauty of the naked eye. Nothing can reconstruct the dance. The gold loses its value without depth and glitter.
I stand and breathe deep. My face is damp. Raindrops slipping from the end of my nose. My whisper blends with the twang of the banjo and disappears into the twinkle of the gold speckled fields,
“For since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that men are without excuse.” Romans 1:20
May I never fail to learn more of who my Creator is when I stand in awe of beauty.