Dinosaurs, fairies, butterflies and spiders. No, this is not a fantasy version of 'I went to the shop and I bought...' These were my companions this evening. In a valiant attempt to make the most of the wonderful light evenings that late June grants, I grabbed my bike and headed along the river.
Now repeatedly I try and make a point of looking up as I go about the day to day. It's an eye-opener to see what is above the normal line of vision; the date of a building's construction, a hanging basket, or in the case of my Saturday morning, a poo-ing pigeon. Anyway, I digress.
This evening my looking up philosophy was turned upside down, for the turning of the peddles provided the entrance to a world of momentary creativity. Along the smooth tarmac some expressive minds had gone to work with coloured chalks. Now call me old fashioned, but there is a simple joy in having a child explain their drawings. What to the adult eye is a confusion of clashing colours that are not within the proper lines, is a child's exploration a world that we have long since buried.
Pride of place, the fruits of their labour are displayed on the fridge for all to admire, until the splashed orange juice and curling edges seem fit reason to scrapbook this dear snapshot of childhood for future nostalgic moments.
The beauty of chalk and tarmac is the fleeting joy it creates. This will not be preserved, framed or the subject of scrutiny. Come the next rain shower all that will be left is a dis-coloured puddle. As the cliche states 'We are human beings, not human doings'. Perhaps it's time to be. To enjoy the colour of the moment that will be washed away when the time is right. No matter how hard we try pictures fade, edges curl. Not everything can be preserved. But that is no reason not to enjoy the moment.
