Artistical Disaster

The pear tart called for some simple syrup. I forgot about it being on the burner until the smoke filled the house. It was close to bursting into flame when I grabbed the pan and ran outside to lay it on the rock patio. It looked like a puffy chef's hat, a smoking black one. It was fail/fail because it seemed like my favorite pan might have been wrecked. Brita came outside to see the damage. Her curiosity changed my perspective and the experience.

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.