Hunkered down beside the mess, she poked and prodded. With a knife, she slit the top to explore what was inside. I bent over to watch tiny little beacon flames flicker out and turn into prisms. Burnt sugar looks like a lava flow, or black spun glass, but it is as ethereal and fragile as soap suds.
It made me think of the beauty that artists like Andy Goldsworthy notice and capture. Their curiosity is a gift ~ framed, displayed, or bound in a book for us to exclaim over.
Most days, I wake up and beg to see ~ really see. Today I forgot, but my daughter saw for me. Noticers refine worship with simple curiosity. Thanks my love.
This is the progression. Burnt Sugar Study. Beauty for ashes.