Method

I thought it might be a clever thing to say: "Wondering about a sense of wonder." On the face of it, innocuous enough, not overly divulging, for what initiated the construction of the phrase was the notion that I had somehow misplaced mine.

Of course, I may be worrying unnecessarily, more an issue of impatience. Attitude may be the engine (or petrol?) of curiosity, yet imagine how exhausting awe would be if constant. Adjusting to the keener pitch, would it level out as if something akin to tinnitus took over all senses?

It may be depth of experience: Seen it; done it; paid the price. Not cynicism as much as weary with age, and a good day is when one is reminded of simple pleasures.

A walk around the yard and out by the barns (dog in tow) is in order. I could use the exercise: The jaybirds are once again harvesting our unripened filberts, using their heads and beaks as sledge and wedge against the roof or any other hard surface to get at the fruit of the nut. The yellow jacket hornets are doing their low-level aerial recon for carrion in the grass. It looks as if we might get some decent apples despite the scab. The ripe blackberries are thick and the handful I pick once again take me back to childhood summers with my grandparents.

Imagine, then, if you will, a camera as a similar mechanism for nourishment.