// I just finished reading a book of essays called The Book of Delights by Ross Gay, where he shares beautiful, funny, meandering daily reflections written over the course of a year. Each essay celebrates a small, ordinary wonder of his day. I've been trying to find and celebrate my own small delights too, as I've recently found myself back in the suburbs, with a lot of time to listen and reflect.
I have a folder on my desktop called "Delight" and over the past month I took my camera with me on walks and just shot whatever I found joy in. There's always something to delight in, like leaves limned with late sunlight, or shadows painting the path through the woods, or chance encounters, like right now, this little boy who just came and sat next to me on the park bench and excitedly scream-asked if I was here for the Pokemon battle. I know my answer didn't delight him, though.
This folder of delight was starting to feel like a rock collection, not one I was particularly planning to show anyone, but I sort of feel myself turning into a hermit, so here is one minute painstakingly plucked from hours of random footage. The words are part of a beautiful poem by Mary Oliver called Wild Geese, read by her.
This was my September. 💛