I drove home a different way. It would take a little longer, but I wasn’t in a hurry, and what’s an extra 10 minutes when it’s a beautiful fall evening with gorgeous sunset colors and falling leaves? It became slightly more adventurous when I turned a bit too early, putting me on a road I’d never ventured before. I knew I wasn’t going to get lost. I knew my directions, and country roads didn’t bother me. I saw a couple young deer right away, then a fox scurried across the road in front of me. I waved to a farmer, who I initially thought might be rushing to beat the sunset. It’s been many decades since I was involved on the farm, and there were lights on equipment even back then, but there was something about trying to fit as much work as possible in the daylight, and it’s stuck with me. The poor farmers now have everything they need to work around the clock. But I digress…

I started down a somewhat steep hill. With the setting sun, it felt as if I was in a dark bowl with the vibrant sunset creating a dramatic contrast on the horizon. The road ahead seemed to climb into the sunset itself with its vibrant pop of sherbet orange, pink, and purple. I reached the bottom and transitioned into the climb at the same time a deer walked across the road at the top of the hill. She stopped in the middle and looked at me. She was still at least 100 feet from me, and I couldn’t see her face. I was still in the shadows, so all I could see was the silhouette. It was a panoramic art piece in real life—an arc with darkness beneath it but brilliant colors peeking from behind every bit of space around and between life between me and the sunset, including the deer. I slowed to a crawl, considering snapping a picture. I knew it wouldn’t give the experience justice. I couldn’t capture the breadth or texture of it. And before I could grab my phone, the deer moved, slowly making her way across the road. 

I continued up the hill and found the deer standing among a dozen as if they were either waiting for me or wondering when I’d move along and let them be. 

It’s not the first time I’ve seen a beautiful sunset. It’s not the first time I’ve seen a deer. It’s not the first time I’ve seen a beautiful snapshot of nature on a drive. It doesn’t have to be unique to be beautiful. It doesn’t have to be a once in a lifetime experience for me to appreciate the moment. Appreciation often takes two things: attention and pause. I wonder how many moments we pass by because we’re focused on other things, some that might need to take a precedence but others that are unnecessary distractions. Stay alert today and be willing to be interrupted so you can enjoy what is right in front of you. 

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