A small yet complex segment of the universe, my backyard. I tried to find something simple to draw this evening. I took a leaf from a columbine plant. The leaf, though small and entirely green, was so complex that all I could draw was the outline and a few veins. It seemed that I was peering at something massive from a very long way away. I read a quote from Isaac Asimov last week the substance of which was that no matter how closely you've looked at something, the amount still left to be seen is as great as when you began your investigation.
The sun had sent out tendrils that briefly wrapped around various objects, reddening the leaves in a crabapple tree, gilding the dying pepper plant in a pot on the tree stump, pointing out the intricacy around me. Then the earth, continuing its roll around the galaxy, rolled me out of the sun's path, and here I am trying to hold within that feeling of the immensity without.