Red-tipped glory

Fragile
London, ON, November 2011

I chose "flash of color" as this week's theme (please see here for more) because there's something refreshing about seeing a wisp of brightness where you otherwise wouldn't expect to find it. When I set out on my Sunday morning walk in the woods, I expected it to be a sea of grey, a desolate, shadowy place devoid of any memory of the lush color that had blanketed it barely a few weeks earlier. The approach of winter tends to strip the landscape of its in-your-face vibrancy, so my intent was to capture the bleakness.

So it was quite the pleasant surprise to see so many tiny examples of color. You couldn't see them from far; if you stuck to the broad view, they remained hidden. But walking closer to a tuft of stripped-down bushes revealed sights like this, tiny red sprouts that hung around long after the leaves around them had turned brown and been blown away.

The wind was blowing a chill through my coat as I took this scene in. I waited for the branches to stop dancing, but eventually realized Mother Nature had no intention of hitting the pause button just for me. So I took the picture anyway, tightened my scarf and kept walking, the memory of this once-hidden perfection serving as a reminder to take the time to look more closely. Otherwise, I might never have known what I would have missed.

Your turn: How do you make sure you don't miss the small stuff?