As a person, I am fairly optimistic. Sure, I believe in many superstitious practices like knocking on wood and hanging a horseshoe with the ends up so that all the luck pools into it, but I also believe that a little elbow grease goes a long way toward the better outcome of any situation. I believe that fate provides opportunity and that an individual has to seize it.
Carp your diem.
Someone once told me to "count my lucky stars" and it made me smile. You see, stars are a wonderous, awe inspiring thing (for which I have a small obsession). They remind us that the universe is vast and plentiful, and though we may only be a spec in the grand scheme of it all, we are still part of it. Stars, those bright, shiny balls of energy that have sprung into existence thousands of lightyears away, shimmer into someone's night sky. But sadly their dazzling light does not last; eventually, stars burn out. So yes, I consider myself lucky to count any stars I see, to acknowledge that they were there, that I saw their lustre for one moment one evening, and that they saw mine.
I hope to bring this idea into the rest of my life as well, to count the blessings I experience every day and to showcase some of them here. These can be big events in my life, like the upcoming weddings of two very good friends, or the small things, like the day to day changes in my little nephew. I also have to count myself lucky to have time to spend with family and friends, old and new, with good conversation and good food. It's good to simply be with people you love. Then there are the scenes that just take my breath away. At home or abroad, there is always some lanscape, cityscape or natural occurance that makes me want to snap a photo to say "I witnessed this, and it was remarkable."
For example the other day, while enjoying some sun in the back yard, I witnessed the flight of a humming bird that had come to feed on our hibiscus tree. It was quiet, of course, and quick; it seemed to ride the wind. When I finally located and locked my eyes upon this tiny little bird it seemed so steady. It took its time, flitting from one flower to another, and, when satisfied, it was gone. It was a short but beautiful moment.
I have since taken many pictures of the hibiscus in the garden, and have found, to my delight, a star at the center, as in the picture above. It makes me smile to know that one miracle, this bountiful tree that flourishes new flowers every day, can bring about so many more.
I simply had to snap a few pictures of him as he taunted the moths in the dark. Silly moths, attracted to bright, shiny things. Bet you didn't expect to see this guy on the window sill. 
Today's post shall be short and sweet, just like me. It was my first full day of school, and it was pretty easy. The profs were good about not overwhelming people the first day, especially since most of us can't extract our books from the makeshift bookstore (which is hard to take seriously since they have set it up in one of the coat rooms of the Arts Centre, and they keep closing during peak hours. RE-diculous). So we had a quick intro into what everyday class will entail, and were even sent home early. 
This is the bud of a poppy plant. In reality it is the size of my fist. At any moment that velvety burst of red will push its way through the top, opening up into a luscious flower with large petals and a deep, dark center. The petals open to reveal themselves in all sorts of ways; a balance between rich and fragile texture, like leather and rice paper at once, that allows the sun and the wind to fold them in ways that an array of reds shine through. These poppies are strong, beautiful, and grow as tall as any other large plant in the garden. 
