The Fire Hydrant

The Fire Hydrant
Perched on a high stool at the window, I was fretting about the lack of beauty in the scene before me. Across the street from my Starbucks stood a drab Counseling Building, and an empty parking lot surrounded by a black iron fence. The trees were bare.

The Holy Spirit paused my internal complaining by whispering, “You don’t see beauty, because you are not looking for it.” I determined to find it. The fire hydrant.

I had not noticed before the curved dome that crowned the workhorse. The whimsy of the bright red color and the stateliness of the body through which the water poured. There it was, beauty.

The next day I discovered the lacy black branches on show, lying against a clouded sky. I drew the fire hydrant, the lacy branches, beauty everywhere. In this act I discovered two new skills, the ability to see beauty and the love of drawing it.