It's Saturday morning, a bit later than I had planned, but I'm at the computer, BIC and HOK, my favorite day for writing. Maybe I'm just more relaxed on Saturday mornings. Maybe the routine of the week gets a jolt and I can see things from a different viewpoint. I'm here. I'm ready. I'm writing. I'll keep this short.
Yesterday my husband and I were driving to meet friends for lunch in a nearby town. In the distance I could see the mountain chain we locals call the South Mountains. They drew my attention first because they were snow covered, not so unusual a sight for this 2010 winter. But the sun reflected the snow and made the mountains aflame with whiteness. Off to the side, though, was a loner mountain, Pilot Mountain, the object of my latest writing project. I never imagined I could see it from this particular road and this point of view. What a jolt. All my concentrating on Pilot Mountain and there it was before my very eyes from an angle I had never seen. Wait.Yes, I had seen it thousands of times through the years, I'm sure. But I had never realized and connected that distant hump with the stories of the schoolhouse called Pilot Mountain. I'm going back today at the exact time as yesterday and take a picture. Then I'm going to look at my writings about the mountain and its school and insert this new awareness.
There's nothing quite like looking at the usual and seeing the surprising.