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On another long walk today, I bravely commented to a fellow old man, “It must have been quite a thud when that came down!” He was walking across a field as I do, and studying a giant fallen cottonwood that I recently photographed. I say “bravely” because as often as not the people I meet on my walks are either standoffish or eager to lecture me as though I were some curious and innocent five-year-old. This particular fellow was hampered by language—he had a strong Spanish accent—but clearly smarter than me. Nevertheless, he was ready to learn from my feeble contributions. In the end, he said, “God has made many wonderful things. We live in a paradise.”
I agreed, but secretly wished my current outlook were as cheerful as his seems to be. I have difficulty seeing Paradise in my surroundings.
