I love simple. Simple is good.

Earlier this morning while walking between classes, I noticed how the sunlight glinted off a railing and illuminated the few snowflakes swirling in the breeze.  You could argue that there's nothing special about a railing or its shadow on a sidewalk.  You could note that there's nothing noteworthy about a snowfall so light that it sputters and stalls almost before you realize it's happening in the first place. 

You'd be right.

Yet, it was beautiful in its simplicity.  I think of Ernest Hemmingway's words about the power of observation.  He writes, "If a writer stops observing he is finished.  Experience is communicated by small details intimately observed."

I surmise that part of being satisfied with your own life is ensuring that you're present, that you stop rushing long enough to intimately observe the small details, like the way snow dances its way between a railing's spires in the slanted rays of the morning sun.

I love simple.  Simple is good.