Sometimes I complain when Mother Nature isn't as predictable as I expect her to be.
I curse her for upsetting my plans.
I bemoan my failed attempts to tame her.
And then I take a walk outside with my camera on a magical Autumn day and I realize how idiotic all that is.
I realize that I don't always have to be able to predict nature in order to trust her.
I remember that she knows what the hell she's doing even when I don't.
And I relearn that I don't have to control her in order to participate in her magic.
That all I have to do is celebrate the beauty of nature in all her phases to better understand my part in her mystery.
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