(prompt: 'step' 4/9/2020)

Once upon some time ago, I read these words spoken by Alice Walker, in 'The Colour Purple' —

"I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don't notice it."

My mind drifted off into imagination mode, whilst my feet stayed planted firmly in my own small corner of our world... (I find I'm rather good at this!)

Ahh but Alice, my dear. I did NOT walk by the colour purple as it softened everything in my field one summer's night right after the burning sun had made its silent glissade across our great azure sky. I DID see how even the distant electricity poles wore an ethereal shimmer and lost their ugly, dominant presence in daylight hours. And I probably took a step, or maybe two, in different directions to optimise the view. But NO more!

Blue-purples and pink-purples featured and blended, forming new and breathtaking shades of beauty. So mesmerising, I nearly forgot to take the photo; and having begun, like Molly with her mop, it was almost impossible to stop.

I choose to fancifully think God smiled and gave me more light in the sky, to emphasise the darkness of the trees framing the stunning panorama. And also appreciation of how puny a camera is — no matter how egotistical the human wielding it — to imagine capturing what only God can so perfectly present.

Clever as the camera can be, it can't capture the sounds of the birds high above, exchanging tales of their travels of the day before their chattering gradually slows and quietens as they settle for the night and sleep takes over; nor the nearby lowing of cattle calls drifting along in the soft breeze to answering bellows from their babes. Faraway, the baa-ing of sheep tells they are also gathering their lambkins close for the night. Even the hen-house has its individual routine of bedtime music as the approaching evening draws mostly contented 'BOK-BOK-BOKs' and the occasional squawk of one of the girls whingeing to a latecomer about having to shuffle along the perch to make room for just one more.

Thankfully, humans have the enviable knowledge and skill to record ALL simultaneously — in our hearts and souls, and most importantly, in our memories. Small wonder God is pissed off if we should just take it all for granted, and pass it by, unnoticed and unappreciated.

And I think of the beauty revealed moments before the sun sank below the horizon, and wonder why I ever stopped clicking my faithful camera. Could it be I already knew the images were burned into my memory forever?

Currently in the middle of winter, I fervently pray - "C'mon summer, give me another chance. God? Please?"

And in dreams, I promise Alice I'll never walk by the colour purple without adoring it.

Never have, never will.