February 27, 2012

When You are Oblivious

"Mom, there's a biker."

"Hmmmm," I murmur.  It is sort of a reply, but not really.  I haven't heard her.  It's only when she calls it again loudly at my ear that slowly my brain registers what she is saying.

I look up.  Sheepishly, I smile.  "Oh, sorry about that." 

I say it to my daughter and to the man on the bicycle.  He is standing with one dismounted foot on the ground and the other on the pedal.  He's waiting for me to move. 

We are all on a hike and bike trail, the four children and I out for a nature walk.  I had brought my new camera and was fascinated with this moss.  Seriously, moss.  It had captivated my entire attention. 

The wooded landscape was quite drab, a nondescript brown has filled most of our recent walks. Were it not for the blue sky, I'd think we were in the Book of Eli film, encased in that hazy brown tone. Then, we saw the moss, vivid and green an obvious contrast to the present dreary scene.

The children had already looked at the moss. Noting it was moss, again. They weren't entirely interested in it.  About the only green we have seen in the woods these past few weeks has been moss. They are tired of observing moss.  Yearning for spring green leaves to bud open, they kept scanning the trees and shrubs. 

That's how they noticed the bicyclist.

Squatted in the middle of the trail, trying to capture in pictures this slightly hairy, green textured moss, I was oblivious to the children waiting for me and now to the bicyclists who joined them.  They were all waiting.

When I raised my head to her strong urging, I felt like a kid caught hand deeply thrust into the cookie jar with just a crocked elbow showing. 

A crooked grin and half apology never covers the obvious. 

The biker smiles. 
He knows. 
I know. 
The children know.
I was caught in sweet oblivion. 

Slowly, I back off the trail.  He rides by smiling graciously.  Then, I heard it, low, rippling like.  He's stifling a chuckle!  My cheeks burn red, and I can't help it.  I realize the absurdity of the scene and his chuckle cascades into a full blown tide of laughter as I join in.

We head off down the trail in the opposite direction.
~ Dorie

...continuing my gratitude listing...

986.  sweet oblivion of taking pictures

987.  laughter ringing while I relax, not taking myself so serious

988.  children who are observant

989.  capturing moss in pictures

990.  gracious bicyclists, who try not to laugh in my face

991.  warmth of the past week allowing us two long walks in the woods

992.  finally posting pics from my new camera {all three in this post}

993.  a morning spent at the art museum viewing Van Gogh

994.  a sister having needed supplies for a science experiment

995.  out of town family coming to visit this week

996.  preparing our homes and hearts for the visit

997.  a verse written out and decorated by a student in co-op, and given to me

998.  another mom expressing sweet sympathy over a difficult situation   

999.  heart to heart conversations with a daughter

...and so it continues...


  1. Great pictures!! Congrats at getting it out and going for it :)

    We actually have little flowers popping up, purple and white and of course I have NO idea what they are called.

    1. Oh, flowers! I am looking forward to some colorful buds.

  2. You are so funny...not exactly in a haha way, but i a sweet, humble way where you can laugh at yourself.

  3. Dont you love how counting and taking pictures awakens us to see beauty that we used to pass by...love you being so caught up in the moment...

    1. So true - the actual counting (or taking pics) allows for such a focus on the blessings and the beauty!

  4. Thanks, Ladies, for your kind words and encouragement.

  5. well yeah...we gotta take time to notice the moss, right? :)


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