To Dance With Daffodils

Personally, I read quite a bit. I read the newspaper, novels, poetry, Scripture, bill boards on the freeway, and, at times, I even catch myself reading the next few entries in good 'ole Websters. I love to read. Of course, I read for the story, the information, or the feeling. However, what is even more gratifying is the slow dissection and appreciation for each word the author has chosen to use. The best of writers has a purpose for each word. When one reads the work of an acclaimed author, they are able to hold each individual word to a higher standard. These writers are artists of text, having the ability to paint worlds or emotions with mere words.

I generally enjoy writing for myself. I find it inappropriate to quote another unless the feelings they have written about perfectly match my own. However, I find it necessary to quote another if they have explained my emotions and thoughts better than I ever could. This entry is not a cop out; my writing would be simply sub-par to this master's work.

Nature to me is an escape, a bliss, a work of art so masterfully constructed that my jaw falls every time I gaze upon it. Nature as a whole is breathtaking; nature magnified is mind blowing. It is a wonder what a single flower can do to one's soul and it is electrifying to be captured by a host of flowers. William Wordsworth is a master of language. He has explained my feelings perfectly:

"Daffodils"

I WANDER'D lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the Milky Way,
They stretch'd in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed -- and gazed -- but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

No, these are not daffodils, but the emotion is here. I dropped to my knees before the tiny field of yellow flowers and raised my Nikon D70 to my eye. It took me ages to finally decide which flower to focus on. My breathing stalled and I pressed gently on that little silver button, allowing the wind to blow the field of flowers through my camera and into my "inward eye."