What a privilege to be with them in a place of beauty.
We took a small walk yesterday to the reservoir at Igatpuri.
Dawn had broken. Low-lying clouds rested on the tops of the surrounding hills. The crisp cool was mirrored in carpets of dew-beaded green grass on all side.
So totally different from the concrete jungle we live in.
We walked out - women and children - the occasional man with us too - gaping at the spectacle around us.
These are precious slices of beauty - ones that will be nested in the hearts of our dear friends.
It was fitting that it was a Sunday morning - and what else could we do but praise our living God.
Glory be to God for dappled things—
For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;
For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches’ wings;
Landscape plotted and pieced—fold, fallow, and plough;
And áll trádes, their gear and tackle and trim.
All things counter, original, spare, strange;
Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change: Praise Him.
- Gerard Manley Hopkins (1877)