I've been driving to Evandale every Wednesday morning for the last six weeks. I particularly love the mid morning drive back to town through White Hills. It's so green and lovely.
This morning in particular I was struck by the beauty all around me. The graceful, precise arc of a raven coming in to land. The wombat pausing mid-road crossing to think about what it should do when I slowed down to let it pass. Eventually it waddled off and ducked through the shrubbery on the side of the road.
Other times I dawdle through the park and admire the carpet of daisies, or notice the perfect light of the sun on the clouds.
It seems to be that beauty really is all around, if I only have the eye for it. That God is all around, in the the arc of the raven and the waddle of the wombat.
And when I remember that, I remember how blessed I really am.