I'm walking to my car after work, crossing the little bridge between the music building and the library. "Take a picture of the Mill Stream." I look over at it. It's a rain-mucked swirl of nondescript blah, so unremarkable it's almost like nothing. Hm... "Take a picture." I've learned not to argue. I set down my bags - satchel, purse, lunchbox - and pull out my camera. I snap 8 or 10 shots of the water. I don't point at anything in particular, just frame it up here and there. It looks really boring on the little camera screen. I tuck it in my bag and off I go.
And then I find this in the boring nothingness - a very interesting heart surrounded by what looks like an adventure-filled, winter-wonderland of treacherous terrain. But it's just rainwater. Or the magic of miracles.
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